


An Arrow in Her Quiver

by OmellasBloodforged



Series: Bloodforged [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Banshee Queen, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Canon Compliant, Death, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Injury, Kissing, Light BDSM, Major Character Injury, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Nudity, Pining, Post-World of Warcraft: Legion, Pre-World of Warcraft: Battle for Azeroth, Sylvanas Loyalist, Torture, Trauma, Violence, Warcraft Lore, World of Warcraft: Battle for Azeroth, World of Warcraft: Legion, Wow, blood elf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:54:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 55,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25598398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmellasBloodforged/pseuds/OmellasBloodforged
Summary: I almost died fighting the Burning Legion. By the end of that cruel war to save Azeroth, the Horde had a new Warchief. It seemed I was on my way to be accepted into her inner circle, and I was not going to break her trust. We do what we must.I pledged my life to Sylvanas Windrunner. I am just an arrow in her quiver.
Relationships: Anduin Wrynn/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Bloodforged [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1965496
Comments: 100
Kudos: 71





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has some very heavy tags. I expect the fic will get progressively darker, though I am not sure yet how it will end. Even though I included tags related to sexual content, there will only be a couple of scenes including this kind of content. This will not be the focus of the majority of the fic, but these scenes will be used to further the plot. I will leave a warning at the beginning of each chapter that contains darker/heavier themes, like graphic depictions of violence or sexual content.  
> ___  
> Trigger warnings for this chapter: graphic depictions of violence, blood, injury

# Prologue

The dark ground of the Broken Shore glistened green and red, as the fel of the Burning Legion mixed with the blood of the defenders of Azeroth. All around me, demons poured out of portals, slashing the life out of my allies, my friends. The stench of dark magic and death hung in the air like a persistent haze, soaking everything, seeping deep into our minds, poisoning us from the inside.

I plucked a few arrows from the corpses of demons littering the ground around me but they were not enough to replenish my empty quiver. Scanning the battlefield, I tried to find any familiar faces. "Romma!" I shouted, spotting my best friend standing on a cliff not far from me. Flames that poured from her hands consumed the body of a felstalker, an eerie yowl of pain marking its death. I ran towards her, Hati following me closely like a guardian angel. "Are you okay?" I asked, placing a hand on Romma’s shoulder.

"I'm tired," she replied, wiping the sweat from her eyebrow, "but I'm alright." She sent more dancing flames towards a group of imps that ran in our direction, and two of my arrows flew, striking them all down in a team effort. "We are losing this war, Omellas," she growled, face sombre and eyes drowning in the dread she tried to hide. "This is a bloodbath." 

"I know, I know!" I sent another arrow flying towards the face of a wretched demon, about to overcome an Alliance human. The human nodded briefly in my direction before running off to keep on fighting. "Have you seen them? Have you seen Sylvanas?"

"I saw her running over there a while ago." Her forehead creased, and her eyebrows furrowed while she pointed towards a cliff not too distant from where we stood. "Please, be careful, sister."

"You too, Romma." I took her big orcish hand in my small ones for a second, giving it a reassuring squeeze. My pale hands contrasted wildly with her bright green skin as I let them slide away.

It didn't take long for me to find out she had been right. A big infernal fell at Sylvanas' feet as I turned a corner, and her silvery blond hair flailed in the sudden rush of wind and dust. Our Warchief Vol'jin was also fighting close by, brandishing his curved sword to strike down enemy after enemy, all of them falling down at his feet without mercy.

Being with Sylvanas always gave me a sense of security, ever since our time in Quel'Thalas. Perpetually thirsty for the approval of our Ranger-General of Silvermoon, I worked hard to stand out since I was just a kid. The fond memories that remained of that time were muddled by the pain of losing my family to the Scourge. I shed countless tears for them, knowing that the guilt of my failure to protect them would follow me until my dying hour. But it was the news of her death to the blade of Arthas Menethil that almost broke me back then. What good was it to be a part of an elite ranger group if I couldn't protect anyone I loved? 

Movement on the corner of my eye caught my attention. A felguard, all spikes and anger, approached Sylvanas from behind while she was momentarily distracted, focusing on Vol'jin, who was surrounded by enemies. I wanted to yell, make her turn around and face the approaching threat. Yet, deep down, I knew she wouldn't be able to listen to me. I was too far away. My voice wouldn't carry over the loud clattering of weapons and the explosions of spells. There were too many voices hanging in the air to understand anything specific.

I raced towards her, right hand flying to my quiver, pulling out the only arrow left. I released it as my feet moved as fast as possible, hitting the felguard right in his naked chest. His feet staggered but did not stop. My heart sank, the fear of losing her again flooding me, while my pet wolf sprinted towards him, snapping at his heels.

My one arrow flying past Sylvanas' head was enough to get her attention. She glanced at me and then to the felguard behind her, promptly nocking an arrow on her bow, and pulling the string backwards, aiming at the demonic soldier. It landed right next to mine. He tripped once again but continued to move forward, as if both arrows sticking out of his chest were merely tickling him. But Hati was doing his job. The felguard’s leg armour was mangled, and his legs were bloodied. He walked slower now, with a limp. Hati sunk his teeth in one of his legs again, holding on like fleas on a dog, and the demon tried to shake him off, buying me some time. Maybe there was hope after all.

Sylvanas took a step back, pulling a new arrow from her quiver while the felguard pulled back his sword arm, prepared to strike with all his might. "Sylvanas!" I screamed, close enough now to be of any use. But without ammunition, there was only one thing I could do. I stepped between her and the felguard, arms outstretched to shield her from the incoming attack as his shadow loomed over me.

Pain seared through my chest as if I was on fire. Everything went black for a second. My breath caught on my throat, blood pooled in my mouth as the sword ran through me until it came out on the other side.

I blinked a couple of times, yet everything remained stubbornly blurry while a shower of arrows fell on the bulky warrior of the Legion. As he fell backwards with a throaty groan, the sword was pulled back out of my chest, falling to the ground with a loud clang, ringing in my ears like the funeral tolling of a bell. I feared the blade had cut me in half on the way out. 

My legs gave out, and my knees hit the ground hard, as hot blood poured out of the hole in my chest, soaking my armour, staining my hands a bright red colour. I looked down to my bloody body, barely feeling any pain at all anymore. I couldn't feel anything. Everything was numb, unreal. It was like watching it happen to someone else. 

"Omellas!" Sylvanas' voice echoed, far, far away. Yet, she was right there with me, her face next to mine as her arms slowly lowered my body to the ground. Concern swelled in her eyes. It was comforting to think some of it might even be for me. Who knew this agony could be so sweet?

I tried to speak. There was so much I wanted to tell her. Memories streaming through my mind, coming down like a downpour. There was _so much..._ So much I had to tell her. But I couldn't catch my breath. No sound came out when I opened my mouth, like a fish dying out of water. There was only the metallic taste of blood, and her crimson eyes staring down at me in the shadow of the Tomb of Sargeras.


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: mentions of past injuries

# Chapter One

The blazing desert sun scorched the bustling streets of Orgrimmar. The great tan hides that hung high over the city provided some shelter and shade. Yet, I doubted I would ever get used to the dry, hot weather of Durotar. 

Many were still mourning the loss of their loved ones to the Burning Legion, but life was starting to return to normal. You could see it in the street vendors haggling with their customers. In the children running after each other, providing the much-needed sound of laughter. Most of all, you could see it in everyone’s preparations to watch the Warchief's victory march through the city later that day.

Grommash Hold towered over the Valley of Strength with its big Horde banner hanging above the spiky doorway. I squared my shoulders and smoothed my brown leather vest with my hands before entering, as if that would also smooth away the wrinkles in my composure—I was eager to see her again, but being summoned by the Warchief was always a big deal. My anxious little heart raced in my chest.

She stood by the Warchief throne, tall and mighty, talking in a low voice with an orc warrior. She dismissed him as I approached her. "My Queen." I knelt in front of her and lowered my gaze to the ground.

"Ah, Omellas. I have been expecting you." Sylvanas turned towards me. "Please, follow me. Let us talk in the back room."

The small chamber behind the throne room meant to give the Warchief some comfort and privacy. I followed her in and clasped my hands behind my back, waiting for her to talk first. She wore her distinctive burgundy armour but was unarmed. On a table to the left, there was a map of Azeroth and a few scattered handwritten papers, on top of which sat her bony bow and her quiver.

"Omellas _Bloodforged,_ " she started, emphasizing my surname. "I like the name you have chosen. It fits you." 

"Thank you, my Queen."

For a moment, there was a hint of a smile playing on her lips. Omellas Silverspirit was my birth name—the surname a gift from my father. That is how Sylvanas had known me before. But I was not that person anymore. I hadn’t been for a while.

When I was lying on the cold stone floor of that cliff on the Broken Shore, I was sure that's where I would die. And I was okay with it. I was offering her my life. I remembered her standing next to me, fighting off fel demons like she was possessed until someone took me away to a healer. That memory was so hazy that I never knew if it was real or a mere fever dream—I did not dare to ask. I needed it to be real. I had woken up three days later, barely able to breathe with my entire torso bandaged, my whole world outlined in agony and suffering. The recovery process was long and painful; it felt as if I had been reborn and was learning how to live again. It felt like I had a new life, forged from the blood I had spilt against my enemies.

"I trust you are fully recovered from your wound?"

 _No_ , I thought.

Her question came as a surprise. After all, Sylvanas Windrunner didn't show concern for the well-being of others very often. But the last thing I wanted was for her to perceive me as weak. I did not want her to know that sometimes the pain beneath my right shoulder blade almost brought me to tears. I could never admit that to her. Healers had told me it was something I would have to live with, that it would probably never go away. It was a whole new kind of nightmare, never knowing when my body would fail me again. I had to push through the pain during my training because I could not be seen as someone weak. _I am not weak_.

"Yes, my Queen," I replied instead. "I heard you called a healer for me. You saved my life. I am thankful for your concern, my Queen."

For a moment, she was silent, looking through me towards a troubled past. It’s easy to fall into your own memories when you have so many of them, pushing to come through at the same time, all the time. Then she collected herself again, and her gaze fell on me. "You have also saved my life that day. You have shown great loyalty towards me."

As a member and soldier of the Horde, I was only doing my job, not expecting to receive any kind of praise afterwards. And it wasn't like Sylvanas to show appreciation so explicitly. Somehow, it made me uncomfortable, my instinct yelling from the back of my mind that there was something wrong in this picture, that this conversation was about to take a grim turn. "Now that I am Warchief," she continued, watching me closely, "I will need your help more than ever. We have peace, but I sense there are dark times ahead of us."

There it was. The way she uttered that last sentence sounded more like a certainty than a feeling. Like she had seen the future, like she held secrets no one else even imagined. I knew her well enough to realize she already had plenty of plans running wild through her mind. I could almost see the cogs in her brain turning, sizing me up, wondering if I'd be up to the tasks she had in store for me. _I am not weak._

"I am an arrow in your quiver, my Queen." I bowed my head and lowered my eyes again for a moment again. Still mulling over her words, my heart felt heavier with the weight of that ominous prophecy, as if her words were made of concrete and everything was already set in stone.

With her gloved finger on my chin, she lifted my head to make me raise my gaze. The embroidered hood cast a slight shadow over her face, yet it could not hide how beautiful and dark she was, like a brewing storm. Her expression was amiable, but her eyes pierced through me like lightning in the night. "I trust you."

Any master strategist like Sylvanas Windrunner knows that the first rule of winning at life is not to give out their trust lightly. Declaring her confidence in me sounded more like a warning than an achievement. One does not simply break Sylvanas Windrunner's trust and live to tell the tale. "I shall not disappoint you," I replied, hoping she would understand the weight of the promise in my eyes.

I meant it, and she knew it. Her hand moved to my shoulder when she adopted a more relaxed posture. "Will you ride with me today, Omellas?"

My mouth opened up on its own to show the full extent of my surprise. "That would be an honour, my Queen!"

She paused, noticing familiar footsteps approaching, and then stepped back as the tanned hide was drawn aside to let Nathanos Blightcaller enter the room. He brought with him a quiet kind of turbulence, the kind that is only felt inside your mind, like when you wake up from a nightmare you can’t remember but you’re still shivering. Then Sylvanas nodded at me, and I understood that I was being dismissed - whatever Nathanos had to say, was not intended for my ears.

"You are late," she told him, as I stepped out into the throne room.

Romma waited for me outside Grommash Hold, eyes wide with anticipation. "So? What did she want?"

I rubbed my neck for a second, the irregular heartbeat drumming on the skin under my fingertips. "Girl, you are not going to believe this."

I told her all about my conversation with Sylvanas while we walked towards the stable. When we arrived, I signalled Kazosh with my head, who quickly fetched my horse for me. I kissed Wildgaze's forehead and took the reins from the stable master as he snorted with content. "Omellas, I think you're on your way to being accepted into the inner circle," Romma said, stroking Wildgaze's black mane. "You're a big deal now!"

"Oh, please, I've always been a big deal!" I flicked my hair in fake affectation before my eyes met hers, and we just laughed together.

After the devastating war, laughing felt almost wrong — as if we were mocking those who died so that we could live. At the same time, it was satisfying and freeing, and laughter made us lighter. There were tough moments in the last few months when hope for victory was almost lost. But victory had been ours, in the end. Now the focus was on rebuilding our lives and ourselves, and finding what had been lost.

"Hey, Romma, why don't you bring Zona and join me in the march?" Kazosh glanced at me, his eyebrow raising as if he was questioning my judgement. I pretended not to notice.

"I'm not sure Lady Sylvanas would be too pleased with that. She did not invite _me_." She stuck her tongue out, and I pulled a funny face at her.

"I'll ask her. Everyone else will also join eventually, does it _truly_ matter if you're at the front or the rear?" I knew it mattered, but I didn't want to ride alone. I would feel too self-conscious without someone to talk to while we paraded ourselves through the streets of Orgrimmar. 

"Fine, I'll get her. Meet you at the gates in five." She turned around and walked away, her blue dress waving around her ankles. 

*

Chains dangled from the high ceiling framing the tall Horde flags. At the Gates of Orgrimmar, groups of blood elves and Forsaken waited for the Warchief to arrive, every one of them wearing their best clothes. A Forsaken girl in a pretty green dress approached, holding the reins of two skeletal horses. My heart gave a slight jolt of excitement, knowing those were for Sylvanas and Nathanos.

"It's stupid how anxious I am," I whispered to Romma. In the past, I had fought swarms of mindless undead, fel demons, titans, and more scary beasts and monsters than I could count. But I was nervous about riding behind my Warchief through a crowd of joyous supporters.

"Can't judge you, she's a bit... scary." Romma scratched her wolf's chin, who was almost purring with satisfaction, eyes closed in bliss.

"That's not why I'm anxious," I countered, crossing my arms on my chest. "And she's not scary!" I hesitated. "She's just... You know. _Intense_."

A sly smile appeared on Romma's lips. "Sounds like someone has a crush..." she said in a sing-songy tone with a mischievous look.

I glanced behind me to make sure no one was standing within earshot. "Woman, you are out of your mind," I told her, too many truths hiding in her sentence and I did not want to unpack any of them. She just smiled without saying another word.

Suddenly, a wave of murmurs drifted through the crowd, like tiny waves being pushed by the wind. Sylvanas and Nathanos were approaching, walking up the path from Grommash Hold. Adopting a confident posture, I waited by her horse with a modest smile.

"I am glad to see you here, Omellas." She glanced behind me at Wildgaze. Noticing the flag fastened to his saddle, she smirked. "Is that your horse?"

"Yes, my Queen. His name is Wildgaze."

She walked up to him, looking interested. "Strong body, agile legs. Does not seem to be skittish. Beautiful shiny coat," she slid her hand down his black forehead and muzzle. "It's a great specimen." 

I took a few sugar cubes from a small pouch strapped to my belt. She picked them up from my hand and offered them to Wildgaze, who gulped everything down happily. "The flag on the saddle is a nice touch."

I smiled, a sudden warmth spreading through my chest. "I borrowed it from Kazosh, at the stable. Thought you might enjoy the display of Horde spirit."

"My Queen?" Nathanos' voice sent a cold shiver down my spine. He could walk like a troll in a forest or weightless as a feather, there was no inbetween. This time, I had not heard him approach us, and having him so close to me so suddenly was startling. "We should begin." Sylvanas nodded and walked to her horse.

"Warchief, if I may...?" Sylvanas did not show any displeasure as she looked back at me, so I felt encouraged to proceed, pointing towards Romma. "Would it be okay if my friend here accompanied me during the march? I would prefer not to do it alone..." I let my voice trail off, hoping she would notice my discomfort without me having to state it.

"What is your name?" Sylvanas asked, scanning Romma from head to toe.

"I'm Romma Gravewind, Warchief," she replied with a curtsy.

Sylvanas inclined her head slightly to one side. "I have heard great things about you, Romma Gravewind."

She bowed again. "Thank you, Warchief." Romma was dealing with Sylvanas' compliments with a lot more grace than I had.

Sylvanas' powerful gaze fell on me again, pausing to consider her answer. Many times had I stared into her eyes, both living and undead, but it always felt as extraordinary and wonderful as the first time. "I will allow it. You can both ride behind me with my guard."

It was my turn to bow, and I couldn't hide a smile. "Thank you, my Queen." 

A slight frown appeared on Nathanos' face when I addressed Sylvanas as _Queen_. It was not the first time I saw him disapprove of that, but I ignored it. She was more than just my Warchief. I considered her my Queen, despite not being a Forsaken, and I would continue to address her as such whether he liked it or not. 

I turned to Romma with a grin and gave her a thumbs up. She grinned back at me before mounting her grey wolf. 

At the head of the march, Sylvanas mounted her skeletal horse with grace and ease. I knew how much she loathed this kind of demonstration, but she was hiding her annoyance well. She gave Lor'themar Theron and her Forsaken a nod before nudging her horse forward. I took a deep breath and did the same.


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: light BDSM, nudity, light sexual content.

# Chapter Two

The march started at the Valley of Strength, going up the ramp towards the elevator, and we would then be turning right, to The Drag. I had walked the same path countless times before, it was now as familiar as the lines on the palm of my hands. Sylvanas was waving at the people who filled the streets while talking in a low voice with Nathanos. Meanwhile, Romma was gushing over a new staff she wanted to buy.

"... And at the top, there's like a metal round cage with a kind of magical fire burning within!" Her eyes glistened with excitement. "It's a bit expensive, but it is so gorgeous!"

"Can you afford it?" I asked, fully aware that war does not pay well for those on the battlefield. Our lives were marked by bloodshed and odd jobs, and saving gold to pay for more murder tools.

"Muragus will let me pay in a couple of monthly instalments." Her hand skimmed through her purple braids, pushing them to her back, eyes suddenly skimming through the crowd as if saying a name would magically summon its owner. "He knows I'm a good customer."

"A good customer," I repeated, glancing over at her, noticing the slight flush on her cheeks and the glow in her eyes. "Is that all you are?" I asked, a mischievous smile spreading through my rosy lips.

Romma giggled, hand darting to her face but failing to hide the glee and hopefulness of a young love that’s not even aware of its own existence yet. "I'm not going to deny he is good-looking. But I don't think-"

Suddenly, Nathanos' words floated to my ears, hushed and broken. Curiosity got the best of me, and I stopped paying attention to my orc friend. "Holes in power tend to be filled," he warned. Sylvanas turned her face in his direction, eyes wide and lips set in a hard line. Nathanos replied in a low voice. I didn't catch what he said, but it seemed to reassure her.

"... An interim organization," she remarked as if rationalizing something. Both Dark Rangers riding at our side seemed to be ignoring their conversation, as they had been trained to do. I was aware this was not for me to hear, yet I could not fight the desire to know more.

Nathanos continued in a low tone, only allowing me to capture a few words here and there. "... Calling themselves the Desolate Council," he explained, earning a muttered response from Sylvanas.

When we arrived at the orphanage, all the kids were gathered outside, cheering for the new Warchief. A young troll child was sitting on the Matron's shoulders, sucking on her blue thumb. A small tear sparkled in her left eye before gliding down her soft face—another child orphaned by the war crimes of the Burning Legion. 

"By the way, how's Lindell?" Romma's question brought me back, and I swallowed down the bitter memories that the crying child was bringing to the surface.

I groaned in response to her, remembering the snobbish nightborne I had met in Suramar, who seemed to have some kind of interest in me. I gave him the benefit of the doubt and gave him some of my time too. However, it had _not_ been time well spent.

"Lindell is..." Dull. Tiresome. Annoying. "Definitely not for me." 

Romma shrugged. "Shame. He's quite wealthy, I heard."

"His family is wealthy." I rectified, boredom taking over me just by letting his name touch my tongue again. "He's just... Amazingly boring!"

Romma laughed, and I joined her, but it was only a false sensation of joy that disappeared too soon. I'd been keeping an eye on Sylvanas all along and she was tense, her posture more rigid than usual. I clutched Wildgaze's reins, secretly wishing I was holding her hands instead. I could still feel their warmth, ten years after it had been viciously taken away.

We continued through the alley until the big tree. Even the upper level of the Drag was crowded. Families. Friends. War-torn people bearing physical and emotional scars that would never fade. They seemed to be at peace now, enjoying the march, laughing with each other, feeling carefree. And all the while, all I could think about was that one thing Sylvanas had told me before. _There are dark times ahead of us_. How could I not, when all I knew was how happiness always turned to dust and salty tears, the string of my bow against my lips, the pressure of a body at the end of my daggers, and blood staining my skin.

We turned towards the Valley of Honor, passing through the tunnel in the mountain. "Do not dance around this, Nathanos." Her voice reached me again, assertive and domineering. A shiver ran down my spine, even though she was not directly talking to me. Her words had a special way of cracking masks and bringing down entire walls.

Nathanos' lips shifted to a somewhat grim smile — whatever they were talking about, it was not good news. I did not listen to his reply, but her brows furrowed, and she scowled at him. "Do they want to be rotting in the earth?" She seethed, a wildfire raging in her eyes.

I wished I could be the anchor to keep her grounded, to calm her down when her banshee anger flares up, to be the oxygen her fire consumes. I hoped I could do more, but having her trust would have to suffice for the moment.

Nathanos remained calm. Even when Sylvanas snapped at him, he never raised his voice at her. I admired him for his apparent serenity. She was not always easy to deal with, but he did it brilliantly. Almost as soon as it surfaced, her rage dissipated again. She kept whispering to him as we continued through the dirt path towards the lake and over the bridge. "...We will need them," she stated with an absolute finality to her tone, waving at an orc family, who smiled graciously back at her. 

*

That night, I met Romma at The Wyvern's Tail after dinner for a drink. It was time to celebrate our accomplishments and the fact that we were still both very much alive. If one thing was certain in our world, was that every moment could very well be our last.

After the surreal day I'd had, Sylvanas' words were still hovering over me like a dark cloud. I was glad to have an excuse to wind down and enjoy the present—I had been worrying about the future too much and too often.

The orc innkeeper approached us with a smile, slinging a rag over her shoulder. "What can I do for you today, Omellas?"

"Nufa, bring us two Cherry Grogs, please!" I placed some coins on the counter and she hurried to prepare my order.

Romma and I clinked our glasses and took a sip at the same time. The sweet drink burned my tongue as it slid down, and the strong alcoholic beverage left an exhilarating spicy aftertaste in my mouth, like adrenaline in liquid form.

"Oh, that's good!" Romma muttered, invigorated by the intoxicating drink.

"Come, we can sit outside," I suggested, making my way through the crowd of patrons inside.

We sat on the floor, next to a pile of boxes to the right of the Inn's stairs. The night was mild, a brisk breeze sweeping smoothly through the valley, refreshing after such a warm day, and I was suddenly glad to have braided my long hair to prevent the pesky flyaways from bothering me. The sky was clear, and the stars shone their light high over the city. The constant murmur of the waterfall was a lullaby for the town preparing to go to sleep. 

I took another swig from my drink, scrunching my nose at the smouldering sensation sliding down my chest. "Thank you for being my friend, Romma."

She scanned my face before deciding to crack a joke. "Of course I'm your friend, who else would put up with your shenanigans?"

I giggled. "No, I'm serious." I looked at her, noticing the colour switching on her green cheeks even in the dim light. She always flushed easily. "Who would've thought that a blood elf and an orc would be as good companions as we are?"

"That's the thing about war," she said, pausing to take a sip. "It can bring together the most unusual people."

"Lok'tar!" I replied, raising my glass into the night before taking another sip as well.

"Omellas," she started, after a few moments of silence, "do you miss Silvermoon?" 

"I do," I admitted. "Mostly, I miss being in the woods, you know?" Many years had passed since I had visited my ancestral homeland. If I _really_ focused, I could almost see the light shining through the leaves, feel the lush green grass under my bare feet. "It used to be so peaceful... So beautiful. I wish you could've seen it before."

I glanced at the bridge and saw a familiar face crossing to where we were. Romma noticed her too. "Hey, isn't that Daydra?" 

"It is, indeed," I replied, as the other woman smiled at me from a distance. "Romma, do you mind finishing that drink alone?" I asked, still staring at the slender figure that approached us with cat-like grace, golden ponytail hair twinkling in the moonlight, and a long cerulean dress flowing around her like a river. 

She chuckled. "Of course not. If only I had your luck with girls..."

I gulped down the remaining liquid in my glass as the elf stopped in front of me, hand in hip and suggestive half-lidded eyes. She glanced at the empty cup in my hand with a raised eyebrow. "Can I offer you another drink?" Her voice was feathery and dreamy like blooming flowers, and the breeze carried her alluring scent, the same familiar perfume she had been using for years. 

"I don't think I'm gonna need it," I replied, placing the cup on the ground and getting up. "See you tomorrow," I told Romma, who was pretending to sip on her drink to hide a sly grin.

I took Daydra's hand, guiding her to my small hut in the Valley of Wisdom, despite knowing she needed no guidance. She had been there before. Yet holding hands was such a pleasant feeling—one that I didn't get to experience as often as I would like—that I wanted to appreciate it for as long as I could. As soon as we stepped inside, she held me by my waist and spun me around, so we were face to face. "I'm glad you're back," she purred, closing the door behind her with her foot. "I missed you while you were in Argus."

"Oh, you did?" I bit my lip, moving backwards, pulling her with me, bodies eager to blend together like all the colours in a meadow. "And why is that?"

"Because I love..." She drew out the word and paused for dramatic effect. "Spending time with you!"

I laughed, pushing her away to pretend I was offended. But then I pulled her closer again, squeezed her waist, and tilted my head to kiss her. Her silky lips moved in sync with mine, delicate and tender. She tangled her fingers in my hair, deepening the kiss, hungry for me, and I cupped her face with my hands, her jawline soft under my fingertips.

Daydra Cinderpride was an old acquaintance of mine. We were never in a committed relationship, but we did have certain _hobbies_ that aligned perfectly—I enjoyed relinquishing control in bed, and she enjoyed taking it.

She pushed me softly onto the bed, and I laid down. Each of her movements increased the flutter in my chest that carried a pleasant tingling all over my body. I kicked my boots off, letting them fall to the floor without care. With one leg on each side of my body, Daydra bent down to lick and kiss the exposed part of my lower belly, the loose strands of hair that framed her face tickling me, making me shudder and giggle.

She undid the knots on my brown top excruciatingly slow to expose my chest, and I raised my torso to help her remove it, stealing a peck on her grinning lips. Her shining light-blue eyes watched me full of lust in the semi-darkness for a moment, her perfect white teeth biting her bottom lip. Then she slowly kissed her way up to my neck, and I threw my head back to appreciate all the sensations fully.

Yet, when I closed my eyes, something very different invaded my mind. A face with harsher lines and purplish skin. I pictured myself lowering her hood, running a hand through her light blond hair. Daydra licked and nibbled lightly on my earlobe, but I could almost feel someone else's fangs grazing gently over my skin. A soft moan escaped my lips, all the stormy clouds lifting and the sun shining through.

I opened my eyes and watched her remove one belt, standing on her knees above me. Then she unbuckled a second belt, half-lidded eyes fixated on me and a mischievous smirk plastered on her lips. I twisted my head to watch as she tied my hands to the bedposts, effectively removing all of my control. 

She untied the knot on my pants, and I raised my hips so she could pull them down. Laying down next to me, she turned my head with her hand as a silent command that I should be watching her.

When she kissed me again, she did it more forcefully, with authority. Her hand travelled down my neck, to my breasts. She pinched a nipple, making me gasp into her lips. Her fingertips grazed my belly, and I shivered with the sweet satisfaction of her velvet touch. When she slid her hand beneath my panties, my chest was heaving, and my eyes fluttered close. She touched me eagerly, thirsty for the sounds of pleasure escaping my lips. 

But in the darkness of my mind, the only thing I could see was a pair of vibrant flaming eyes, beckoning me into damnation.


	4. Chapter Three

# Chapter Three

Insistent knocking on my door woke me up the next morning, dreams fading into nothing like smoke as I rubbed the sleep off my eyes, grabbing a robe on the way out to cover my naked body. When I opened the door, an orc guard let out a loud breath, tapping his foot as if that would make me move faster. "Omellas Bloodforged?" He spoke in a flat, bored tone, and I nodded in response. "The Warchief wishes to see you at your earliest convenience," he continued. That meant _right now_.

"I'll be right back," I replied, acknowledging him with a nod. I rummaged through my wardrobe for a while, trying to find something comfortable, yet bold to wear. If Sylvanas wanted to see me again so soon, I could only assume she had a mission for me—a bit of artificial courage couldn't hurt. I picked up my favourite leather corselet, the one with a single strap going from my left side to my right shoulder. It sat on the right spot to hide the big ugly scar—I was proud of it, of what it meant, but it was also a reminder of the arbitrary aches that would pull at my muscles and weigh me down. My loop earrings glinted softly in the morning light when I took one last look at the mirror, satisfied with my look.

I sat on the edge of the bed and leaned in to kiss Daydra's forehead, her nose scrunching up sweet as honey. "Hey, I need to leave for a while," I whispered when her eyes fluttered open. "You can raid the kitchen and stay as long as you like, okay?" She nodded with a smile, pulling the covers up to her neck, and falling back asleep before I walked out the door.

The guard was checking his fingernails when I came out but stiffened his back immediately. We walked together as he escorted me to Grommash Hold, everyone joining us in the streets to start a brand new day. "Is she in a good mood?" I asked, testing the waters for what could possibly be waiting for me inside.

He chuckled. "Is she ever in a good mood?"

I let out a heavy breath, upset at the implications of his sentence and annoyed that this was the image outsiders had of her. "You know what I mean." I studied his face for any kind of hint, but he just smiled politely without offering any further information. I pressed my lips together while we walked in silence, suddenly impatient to get there. 

The guard standing by the warchief throne banged his spear butt on the stone floor twice. He announced my presence to the Warchief, who replied with a firm "Send her in". Sylvanas and Nathanos stood close together in the middle of the room, and I could tell my arrival had interrupted something by the way his eyes narrowed at me. I kneeled in front of her and lowered my gaze, as was my custom. "My Queen."

"Have you eaten breakfast, Omellas?" She took a couple of steps in my direction and gestured for me to get up, fingers pulling my puppet strings like an expert.

"I have not", I replied, noticing for the first time several breakfast dishes scattered on the table where her weapon sat the day before.

"Please, help yourself." She motioned towards the chair closest to me and then settled herself on the other one, crossing her knees. Nathanos kept his stiff posture with his chest puffed out, hands held loosely behind his back.

"Thank you, my Queen. This is very generous," I began, sitting down in the chair she had indicated. The plates with spice bread, slices of cheese, baked eggs, and fried sausages released a cacophony of appetizing smells floating my way, and bowls of berries and various fruits glistened with fresh water droplets. I glanced at her, and she nodded as confirmation that I could eat. Neither Sylvanas nor Nathanos had to eat anymore, and I had no knowledge of them ever throwing breakfast parties at Grommash Hold. This did not strike me as being in character for any of them. Considering the implications of that produced a slightly nauseating sensation that grew from the pit of my stomach—I could not tell if this was a good or bad thing, and I hated not knowing. Pouring myself a cup of steaming tea and selecting a couple of fresh berries onto an empty plate was somehow relaxing, but not enough. "May I ask what's the occasion?" I consciously kept my voice steady so as not to give out any indication of my wariness. 

Sylvanas' fingers curled into her palm, only to be extended again, trying to touch something that was missing. "News of important developments for the life of all in Azeroth came to me last night." She shifted in her seat, putting one leg up on the chair. "I request your assistance." I turned my body so that I could observe her while taking a sip from my tea. Her posture seemed relaxed, but the tension on her eyebrows was hard to miss. "You are to go on a short surveillance mission," she explained. "But first, there's something I need to show you." She threw a small brown pouch that hit the table in front of me with a soft clunk. "Open it," she said, leaning back on her chair. I untied the knot and opened it, peeking inside. A chunk of ore I did not recognize glowed with a strange golden warmth and a frosty light at the same time. 

"What is this?" I inquired, briefly scanning her face for any hint of an answer. Sylvanas made a mere vague motion with her hand towards the bag, encouraging me to take it out. Turning the pouch upside down, the rock slid out and fell on my palm.

A wave of unencumbered power washed over me, bringing forth new levels of strength and stamina I never knew I had. The muscles on my arms and legs tensed. I could run faster and longer, hit every target with every one of my arrows, save everyone without exception. There would be no more failure. My brain suddenly filled with all kinds of strategies to use words and actions to effectively make everyone follow my every command. I knew exactly how to shape other people's behaviour, trigger emotional responses, influence their every thought. My potential finally unlocked, all of my skills magnified and-

I dropped the stone on the table with a gasp, startled by what I had experienced, and raised my wide eyes towards Sylvanas, mouth open in utter astonishment. "What _is_ this?"

Her body tensed, and she lowered her head, full focus on me. "What did you feel?"

I stared at the bizarre mineral resting on the table. Even without touching it, my skin tingled as if my body sensed its presence. "This is everything I've ever wanted," I murmured. Sylvanas leaned forward, both feet on the ground again and elbow resting on her knee, waiting for me to go on. "I was stronger and steadier, I- I was a master of manipulation and control." My heart still pounded on my chest, yet I had never felt so calm and relaxed. Whatever this thing was, I needed it.

Sylvanas smirked and exchanged a look with Nathanos, who shifted behind me. "As I suspected, you are the person I am looking for."

"Humm... I don't understand," I hesitated, suddenly somewhat disoriented. 

"You are still on a need-to-know basis. For now, I need you to go to Silithus." She straightened up in the chair again, eyes fixated on me. "The goblins are mining this ore. I would like you to watch them for a while." Her face tightened, and a crease appeared between her eyebrows. "I want to know exactly what that weasel Gallywix is doing."

I hated the idea of going to Silithus. If I still had trouble dealing with the weather in Orgrimmar, Silithus would be a hundred times worse. Yet, I vowed never to disappoint Sylvanas, so I had no choice but to endure. 

"I will send someone for you in a couple of days," she continued, suddenly off her chair in one exquisite movement. I mimicked her, preparing to be dismissed. "I expect a full report on their activities and possible discoveries." She paused as I nodded in confirmation. "You've come a long way since Silvermoon, Omellas. I hope you are prepared for the long journey ahead of us."

"I will go wherever you lead me, my Queen."

Her lips curled into one of her rare smiles, the ones that made your day brighter, the ones she wouldn't show to most people because, honestly, most people didn't deserve to see this side of her. "Finish your breakfast before you go to Silithus." She approached me, breath catching on my throat as she rested a hand on my shoulder. "You will need your strength to deal with the goblins in that pit."

Sylvanas walked past me, pausing at the entrance to look back at Nathanos, who practically hadn't moved since I walked in. "Come, my Champion," her voice always gentler with him than with anyone else. I couldn't help but wonder if she would ever refer to me as her Champion as well. A new wave of confidence washed over me. I was determined to make that happen—I would do _anything_.

He tilted his head in her direction but remained static. "I will be right behind you, my Queen." She narrowed her eyes at him with a set jaw, the kind of look everyone had learned not to mess with. This was not part of the plan, but she did not press him any further, and as soon as she left the room, he took a step towards me. "I see what you're doing."

Taken aback by his statement, I swallowed the bundle of anxiety pressing in my throat, refusing to let my nervousness show. "What is it you think I'm doing, Blightcaller?"

He deliberately lowered his head, studying me through narrow eyes. "Why are you so eager to earn her favour?" His red gaze was unnerving, a predator observing his prey before the kill. 

"You've known me for a while." I frowned. I did not particularly like Nathanos, but I did not wish to be on his bad side either. I had to consider each of my responses carefully—honesty would be the best approach with him. "I've always been eager to earn her favour."

"Oh but you're growing more desperate now, aren't you?" As he took another step towards me, he radiated superiority, legs wide apart as if to physically show his dominance over me. "Like a little fledgeling who's just learning how to fly."

I resisted the temptation to glance at the hide separating us from the throne room. Could Sylvanas be listening? Could this be a test? "I strive only to please our Queen," I replied, stubbornly resolute. 

"She enjoys this, you know?" He paced around the room, pausing to look at me when he spoke. "All these demonstrations of... Devotion." He turned his attention to a world map on the wall, gesturing vaguely as he spoke. "The kneeling, calling her Queen. Almost getting yourself killed to save her." His cloak snapped behind him as he turned sharply towards me again with accusation in his eyes. "You're not even one of us." The hint of resentment on his tone matched his sour expression.

"I protected her when you did not." I clasped my hands behind my back while he clenched his jaw. It was unwise of me to cross him, but I would not be shamed for doing my job. "Is that it?" I stared at him, tilting my head, suddenly reading him like an open book. "Is that what's bothering you? That _you_ weren't there to protect her yourself?" It was my turn to approach him, to make myself tall and show I would not stand down. I knew exactly which buttons to push. "Where were you, if not by your Queen's side?"

His jaw clenched, giving me a slight sense of victory—I had struck a nerve. "I was doing my job."

"So was I!" I threw my arms to the side and clasped my hips. If they were testing my allegiance towards her, I had nothing to hide. My loyalty had always been unwavering. If Nathanos or Sylvanas herself needed reassurance of that, I would gladly oblige.

"And now," he continued, contempt coating every word, "she's all head over heels for her _pet._ " He almost spat that last word, hoping to offend me. His lips had a mocking smirk etched on them, but his stare was intense and fevered. 

I pushed my shoulders back and lifted my head just enough to be noticeable, the only act of defiance I was willing to perform without risking turning him into an enemy. "We are on the same side here, Nathanos," I reminded him. Was it jealousy I could see written all over his face?

"I think you are trying to bite more than you can chew," he sneered in a low tone. 

"I am merely an arrow in her quiver," I stated with confidence. I knew he would recognize that expression. More than that, he would respect me for using it. "I will follow her wherever she goes, even if that leads me to my end." I took another step forward, bold and unafraid. "I do what she commands, just like you."

He stared at me, swallowing hard, eyebrows squeezing together. "You know what happens if you fail her, don't you?"

I smiled. I had won. "I will not fail her."

"I'm keeping an eye on you." He walked towards the exit and paused, back turned towards me. "She might trust you, but I do not," he concluded, before leaving me alone in the room.


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: graphic depictions of violence, blood

# Chapter Four

The heat of the desert hit me like a wall as I stepped out of the portal. Despite being in the same continent, the air was very different from the one we breathed in Orgrimmar—in Silithus, it was tainted by the corruption of the titan sword desecrating the very ground we stepped on. This place did not look like how I remembered it—the desert, once barren, now had blocks of that golden-blue ore shooting out of the ground, and the clinking sound of pickaxes hard at work filled the atmosphere, with goblins clustered around these chunks like rats around cheese.

"Shhh, it's okay," I told Wildgaze, stroking his muzzle, whispering sweet nothings into his unsettled heart. He had been trained to walk through portals, but it was always a stressful situation for horses. I took some time to make sure he was okay before strapping him to a makeshift fence the goblins had built, and then I looked around, wondering where to start my metaphorical dig.

People were calling this place The Wound—a monument to the destruction caused by Sargeras. He was nothing but a bad memory now, although it was clear our world would bear the scars of his actions for a long time. Our planet now had an open wound on its surface, and the angry red aura floating around the blade added an atrocious look to the landscape of this desert. 

I sighed, unloading my frustration on an innocent loose pebble that I kicked out of the way into oblivion. This assignment could not possibly get any worse.

I approached the nearest goblin, who was busy inspecting a mining cart, a delicate glimmer rising from within. "Excuse me?" He looked up at me through thick glasses, seemingly confused by my presence. "Could you please point me in the direction of the person in charge here?"

"Ah, yes. That would be Geld Haddoc, Production Supervisor!" He pointed towards another goblin a short distance away, carrying a clipboard and barking out orders.

I thanked him and approached the Production Supervisor. "Geld Haddoc?"

He made a sharp turn, paper sheets rustling in his clipboard, eyebrows creasing when he realized I was not a goblin. "Who wants to know?"

"I'm Omellas Bloodforged." I paused to wipe the beads of sweat already forming on my forehead, feeling the hair on the back of my neck getting soaked quickly. "The Warchief sent me to inspect the production process and see how things are going."

"Oh, they are going great, as you can see!" He walked over to a mining cart full of that mineral, tenderly patting the brim. "We work in shifts around the clock, so production never stops."

I joined him, fingers curling into my empty palm, eager to touch it again. There were still mysteries to uncover within me, but I wanted to do it in private this time. "Can you tell me more about the whole process?"

"Follow me!" His high-pitched voice sounded too excited for someone who was living in Silithus. Goblins sure were a special kind of people. "We performed some drilling tests on the crust to determine specific features of this material, such as density and chemical composition." He spoke in a rapid and excited tone as I followed him down a rough path carved on the rock. We walked up to a big chunk, a spiky stalagmite as tall as me, closer to the massive sword. "We concluded that surface treatment and directional mining are the best ways to approach this fieldwork."

I stared, arms crossed and lips pursed, waiting for him to say anything useful to me—I didn't care for any of these technical terms. He swallowed hard and looked away first. "W-well, in other words, this stuff is coming off the ground around the Wound." He leaned his elbow on the nearest chunk. "We're mining it to retrieve as much as possible, and we have specialists researching ways to use it."

Intrigued by the mysterious red aura, I took a few steps towards the sword, extending an arm to touch it. Warmth enveloped my hand, and then a crackling sensation, like a static haze, blanketed my skin. A disturbing shiver ran up my arm, spreading through my entire body, and I pulled away at once, a few red wisps drifting towards me as if they wanted to keep touching my skin.

Swallowing the ghostly feeling rising in my throat, I walked away from the blade, signalling Geld he should follow me. "Specialists?" That weapon gave me chills, despite the odd heat that seemed to radiate from it. I did not want to be near it.

"Some are here at the camp, but Grizzek is the best." We walked towards a cluster of tents, and Geld stood behind as I peeked inside one of them. A couple of female goblins fiddled with what seemed to be necklace chains and metal wire. "Gallywix went to Tanaris to hire him."

Making a mental note to visit these ladies later, I pushed Geld a bit further. "Have you found any interesting uses yet?"

"Besides the obvious superpower feeling you get when you touch it?" He chuckled, amused by his own joke. "Not much else yet, but I'm sure we'll have more information soon."

We stopped near a chunk about the height of my waist. "What about a name?" 

"Rumour has it that it's called Azerite."

 _Azerite_. I studied the azerite chunk next to me, the way it spiked up like a knife, how the gold and blue swirled together like dye, how it made my skin crawl with desire. Why was I so drawn to it when the goblins seemed to be perfectly fine working around it all day? Back at Grommash Hold, my body had felt the presence of the ore when it was sitting on the table. Now, being surrounded by it and not touching it was almost unbearable. I crossed my arms to hide my balled-up fists and blinked, forcing my gaze away from the azerite. "Have you had any visits from anyone at all?" I could only see goblins around, but it was essential to establish who else knew about this stuff. I lowered my head, studying him. "Anyone from the Alliance, perhaps?

He hesitated for a second. "Humm, no official visits. But one of my guys saw someone yesterday, over by that hill." He extended his crooked finger towards a hill behind a group of tents.

I squinted at the area he was pointing at, cataloguing possible hiding places—some rocks to hide behind but not much else. I would have to go check the site for any hints later. "What do you mean, someone?"

Geld shrugged. "You can ask him if you'd like to know more," he replied, looking around until he found the goblin he was referring to. "Hey, Vort!" He beckoned him with his hand as he called out. The other goblin put down his pickaxe and came running towards us.

"Thank you." I offered my hand to Geld. He shook it with a smile and lifted his construction helmet as a farewell before walking away. Vort wiped his forehead with a gloved hand when he stopped in front of me. "Hello, are you Vort?"

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded enthusiastically. "Vort is my name."

"I'm Omellas. Geld told me you saw someone yesterday?"

"Yes, ma'am. Yesterday morning." He removed his helmet and ruffled his blue mohawk. The hair was hanging limp and sweaty from being restrained so long. "It was only for a few seconds, and I could not see their face. They appeared to be dressed in blue and gold armour."

I frowned. Blue and gold armour suggested Alliance. Sylvanas did not mention what to do in case any Alliance scum decided to come sniffing around the dig site. I had to tread with caution—our truce was shaky enough as it was.

"They appear to have a pet eagle that was lurking around our campsite," he added.

I smiled and bowed my head in gratitude. "Thank you, that was very helpful."

As Vort jogged away back to his workplace, I searched the skies. The eagle should be easy to spot—there were no other birds in the area, only the occasional nasty insect. The spy, on the other hand, could be harder to find if they were half good at their job.

Climbing the nearest hill, I summoned Hati—it was always comforting to have him around, especially when my surroundings were so unpleasant and obscure. The Wound was a crater so we could see a big part of the dig site from up there. As the sun grew higher in the sky, we walked side by side around the perimeter. There were no tracks to follow, no hints as to who might've been that mysterious person. There was nothing else I could do but to wait for them to show up again. 

*

The nights in Silithus were colder than one would expect. I wrapped a blanket around me as I sat on the floor outside my tent. Oil candles burned around the camp like rogue stars. The noise never stopped— _clink_ , _clink, clink._ Yet, once you got used to it, it was almost soothing.

I couldn't bring myself to lay down and rest. Sleeping was a risky move when there was an Alliance scout on the loose. I knew Sylvanas would not want them lurking around—this mineral was too powerful, we could not let the Alliance get their dirty hands on it when too many in their ranks wished to destroy us, and they could easily use this azerite for that purpose.

And then I heard it. Mixed with the constant clinking of the pickaxes, the soft flap of feathered wings high above me. Keeping as low as possible, I scoured the sky for a sign of the bird and spotted it as it soared around the blade to the north, making its way south towards me. I peeked around the corner of my tent. Up on the hills, something glinted in the moonlight—the metal armour of someone crouching behind the rocks.

I moved fast, using the shadows to conceal myself. Running between tents, hunching behind boxes and carts, I managed to find a place with a proper angle. Most of their body was visible to me, and they seemed to be looking in a different direction. I crouched behind a mining cart full of azerite, placing both of my hands inside. A deep sigh escaped my lips as the familiar wave of power washed over me. The glowing heat spread fast through my body, a golden radiance circulating through my veins. Time moved slower, or maybe I was processing things more quickly. The bird seemed to fly in slow motion, feathers vibrating in the breeze as the wings moved up and down. 

The figure stood up, offering an arm for the eagle to land. I confirmed it was a female, flaunting her blue and gold with pride, and recognized the aesthetics of her armour—she was a member of SI:7. The filthy spy must've felt confident—she wasn't even trying to hide herself anymore, though her face was still wholly immersed in shadows.

I had to do something. I could not let her go back to the Alliance and expose what we were doing. Perhaps she already had, and I was too late. But at least I could stop her from spilling any other secrets. I only had one shot. Literally one shot. If I failed, I would lose the element of surprise. Not only would she probably flee, but everyone would find out I had attacked an Alliance member in times of peace. This significant political nightmare would have to be avoided at all costs.

Yet, I knew I wouldn't fail. My muscles were tense, ready to attack. My vision was more precise than ever. All I had to do was keep touching this mysterious ore, and I knew in my soul I would not fail. My heart pounded with excitement, fingers itching with the perspective of a fresh kill. The vein in her neck pulsed with each pump of her heart, her chest rising and falling in soft motions with each breath she took. I pulled out my bow, resting my elbow on the azerite. My right hand reached for an arrow in my quiver, while I pushed away all unnecessary thoughts. My hands were steady, my mind was blank—there was only space for my target. I let out a deep breath and allowed the soft fletching to slide between my fingers, the most satisfying feeling for a hunter. The arrow flew straight and true, cutting through the darkness of the night. When it hit the mark, the brown eagle flapped its wings and took flight.

As the woman fell, I rushed towards her, pushing aside the loss of that marvellous sensation of invincibility. Down below, no one seemed to have noticed what happened, as the goblins just kept working like before—no pauses, no shocked whispers, not enough attention left for anything else other than the task at hand.

When I reached her, she was clawing at her throat, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. A steady trickle of blood poured out of the fresh wound in her neck, staining the wooden shaft of the arrow. Her face turned to look at me as I towered over her, right arm reaching to grab my ankle. With one knee on the floor, I allowed the corner of my mouth to rise in a small smirk as I stared into her eyes, wide with terror. Bright red blood dripped out of her mouth, running through the side of her face as she suffocated in it with a gurgling sound. No longer strong enough to lift her arms, she let them drop to the ground, accepting her fate as her body shut down. Even in low light, I could see her lips turning a pretty shade of blue. She convulsed once, twice, and then went silent. A tear trapped in her eyelashes shimmered in the moonlight before sliding down her face, into the pool of blood spreading below.

Just like that, this human life had ended, with no more significance than a bug squashed under the sole of my boot. 

I removed the arrow from her neck, and then patted her down, searching the body for anything of value. In the back pocket of her pants, there was a small notebook. The handwriting was barely legible, impossible to make anything out in that light.

After retrieving Wildgaze, I picked up the body and lifted it up to the saddle. As I galloped into the silent night, I considered the implications of what I had just done. No one could ever know. I had to dispose of the body before anyone could find out, and I had to make it look like an accident. 

As if on cue, the answer came to me clear as daylight, as the sound of buzzing insect winds replaced the silence of the desert.


	6. Chapter Five

# Chapter Five

The bright morning sun stabbed my eyes as I left my tent, a new day ablaze with possibilities. I rummaged through my backpack to find some suitable rations for breakfast, and then, biting into a slice of bread, I poured my attention into the notebook I had retrieved from the spy. It was leatherbound, and the sienna cover was scratched and dirty, as if its owner had been handling it carelessly. When I untied the string that kept it closed, the yellowed pages crackled softly as it opened, the faint vanilla smell reminding me of old books in a library. The handwriting inside was challenging to read, as if it belonged to a child. Yet, the drawings scattered through the pages, though primitive, carried a darkness that did not belong in a child's mind. They were sinister, depicting scenes of what looked like rituals of death and sacrifice.

_Ogmot was just puny boy fightin at da war camp when da Masters first blessed me wit da visions._

As I deciphered the text on the first page, I realised this did not belong to the human who carried it—she had taken it from someone else. There was some dried blood stains at the bottom, the ridges of a partial fingerprint standing out against the pale background like dire foreshadowing. The next page contained nothing but squiggly lines resembling a dark twister.

_Last night, Ogmot dreams of great battle. Two fleets bashin on ocean of blood._

_Shadows twistin beneath da ships. Risin. Ogmot so happy watching the carnage!_

This one was messy, stained with splotches of ink and dirt. The corners, like in most of the pages of the notebook, were curling in on themselves, creased and wrinkled. Could these be visions of the future? Something was registering as peculiar in the back of my mind, though I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

_Dat blade has shiny eye. Always watchin us. Why you no see it?_

Instinctively, I raised my eyes towards the gigantic sword in front of me, noticing how the red circle on the hilt could be perceived as an eye. All of a sudden, a frightening thought crossed my mind. Could part of the old titan be imprisoned in the sword? Could he be watching us? I shivered, turning the page in a hurry as if that act alone could erase this horrible idea from mind. My fears subsided when I saw a sketch of what seemed to be a curved blade, in the shape of a wonky "S"—at least it appeared they were referring to a different weapon, one that was not familiar to me.

I spent all morning examining the notebook and the sketches, trying to make sense of it all. Yet, I could not figure out the meaning of any of the texts. I copied them into my own notebook nonetheless, as best as I could, along with the drawings. 

I had to ask around and find out more about this. I could not explain why, but it felt important.

*

The sun had already disappeared entirely below the horizon when I finished my afternoon rounds through the camp. As I prepared to settle down for a snack, a sharp voice called after me, and I turned around to see a female goblin jogging in my direction, charcoal pigtails flapping behind her. "Ammax, what happened?"

"Look what I have created!" She talked in an ominous tone but soon broke out with laughter. She handed me a black wooden box, light and with a simple design. "Please give this to the Warchief, will ya?

I rotated the box in my hands, curious to learn what kind of secrets it held within. "Can I see?" I opened the silver clasp after she confirmed and a quiet gasp escaped me as I lifted the lid. Inside the box, on a delicate, deep red pillow, rested a chain necklace with a silver metal pendant. The symbol of the Horde shimmered softly in the orange torchlight, with a diamond-shaped piece of azerite tucked away in the centre, a newly discovered soul for each one of us. "It's beautiful!"

Ammax grinned, eyes sparkling with excitement as she swayed from side to side like a child who's being praised for being good. "It's an azerite necklace I've been working on. This is just a sample of all the amazing things we'll be able to create with this!" Eager for the opportunity to let her creativity flow, the pride she took in her work coated every word. 

I opened my backpack to store this gift, tucking it gently between my clothes, where it would be safe. "I'll pass it on to her," I assured, smiling brightly. "I'm sure she'll love it!"

Suddenly, a ripple appeared mid-air not too far from me, humming in a blue light until it turned into a portal. A sin'dorei mage stepped through as I approached. "The Warchief sent me to get you," he informed, with a posture so stiff it looked bizarre in this forsaken corner of the world.

I inclined my head, acknowledging my new orders and proceeding to retrieve the few belongings I had brought with me. Flinging my backpack over my shoulder, I hurried to fetch Wildgaze, who snorted loudly before stepping through the portal after me.

The low sound of drums floated through the air in Thunder Bluff, and a delicate breeze swept through Spirit Rise, ruffling the feathers on all the dreamcatchers hanging from the beams in the buildings. A young Tauren greeted me with a smile, offering to take Wildgaze to the stables, as Sylvanas and Nathanos walked down the steps from the Hall of Spirits. For the first time in a long while, she was not wearing the complete set of her armour. Without the layers of all the heavy armour she usually carried, her slender figure really shone through. For a moment, I felt like a child again, watching Lady Sylvanas wander around the bazaar in Silvermoon, wearing one of her light, elegant dresses, wishing to be just like her when I grew up. 

"Thank you, Arandis," she said, dismissing the mage with a hand gesture. He simply bowed his head before disappearing into one of the nearby buildings. "Omellas, walk with me." She turned right towards the ramp that would lead to the Pools of Vision, heels clicking softly on the rough stone path. Nathanos followed us closely, without a word. "What do you think of Thunder Bluff?" she asked, stepping onto the suspension bridge.

"It's..." I hesitated. The truth was that I had no particular attachment to this city, and I wasn't very familiar with it. Besides, it was far too high in the bluffs for my taste. "It has a great view," I finally said, as we paused in the middle of the bridge.

Sylvanas chuckled lightly. "I do not care much for it either," she confided. "Though I must admit, it's quite a feat of engineering." She turned around to face the other side of the bluff, where a green glow spilled out from the tunnels of the Pools of Vision. "But the Tauren have been treating my people well, and for that, I am grateful to them."

I took a couple of steps, erasing the distance between us, and grabbed the rope, avoiding to look down—the ground seemed even farther away than usual, disappearing in the deep darkness of the night. I swallowed hard and bit my bottom lip, gathering the nerve to talk about a pressing concern. I might never have another opportunity like this one again. "My Queen, there's something I'd like to ask you."

"What is it, Omellas?" As she tilted her head towards me, the wind ruffled her hair, silky and silvery in the moonlight. When I hesitated, she added, "Is something troubling you?"

I glanced behind me. Nathanos was standing rigidly in the middle of the bridge a few steps away, looking into the night. His attention seemed to be lost in the fields of Mulgore, but I knew he would be listening. _You're not even one of us_ , he'd said, throwing that accusation at me like a spear—as if he blamed me for still having a heartbeat. "I've just been wondering…" I kept my voice low, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of eavesdropping on this conversation. "Why didn't you let me die and raise me as a Forsaken?" While I refused to admit it, even to myself, this had been weighing on me for months. Nathanos' remark had reopened a slow-healing wound that was now pouring questions all over me like rain.

Sylvanas glanced at Nathanos as well, perhaps understanding the source of my qualm, and then she held my gaze for a few seconds, eyes piercing through me while she pondered on a suitable answer. "Is that something you would like? To live as a Forsaken?"

There was no hesitation in me then, since I had known exactly how I felt about this for a long time. "I would like to know I will have the option to keep serving you even after I fall one day." Being raised as a Forsaken seemed like the natural progression of my life, just another step forward on the road Sylvanas was paving in front of me.

Her red lips curved into a smile, embers flickering quietly in her eyes. "It pleases me to hear that." Her gloveless hand rested on the rope, nearly touching mine, while she stared at the entrance of the Pools again. "Life as a Forsaken is not something many would choose. Yet here you stand, almost wishing it. The path you've been walking on has been hard enough as it is, wouldn't you agree?"

My fingers twitched, skin prickling with an overwhelming desire to hold her hand. It had been years since I’d been able to do it, and I missed it terribly. I gripped the rope harder, knuckles turning white with the restraint. I was no longer a child, it would not be appropriate. As a compromise, I decided to be bluntly honest with her instead. "It has. But I cannot bear the thought of dying and leaving you alone in this miserable world, Lady Sylvanas."

She turned towards me at the sound of her name. While her face was hidden in the shadows, I could still feel the tenderness in her gaze. I wondered if, like me, she was also reminiscing about the easier, happier lives we had led in Silvermoon. Lives with music and dancing and laughter. Lives before the inescapable nightmares and pain that haunted us both now. "You have always been one of the strongest, Omellas." She raised her arm as if to touch me but paused when Nathanos stirred noisily behind me. Yet, she ignored him, grazing my cheek with the back of her hand. I couldn't help but lean into it—though cold, the touch of her skin on mine burned through me like a flame. "I was there to hold you when you were born on the battlefield, and I would love nothing more than to free you from death's torment when the time comes." She tangled her fingers in my hair, toying with the loose strands around my face. "Yet I still have important missions for you that require you to exist in your current state. You have a specific set of skills I am very interested in."

Her gaze lingered on me for a moment after she let her hand fall to the side. I waited for her to offer further information, breathless, stroking my arm as a surrogate for her lost touch—but she merely turned around and kept walking along the bridge. I looked over my shoulder at Nathanos again, who was still watching the dark fields below. But his fists were now clenched tightly by his side, eyebrows creased and lips pressed together in a hard line. 

It took me a moment to order my weak legs to move and follow her, taking a couple of deep breaths to regain control over my crazed heartbeat.

"Tell me about Silithus."

I cleared my throat, quickening the pace to catch up to her. "Well, they have been working in shifts, so they are mining that mineral day and night-"

"It's called azerite, I've heard," she interrupted, as we cleared the bridge.

"That's what they are calling it, yes," I agreed. By the small lake at the centre of the bluff, young Tauren sang and danced to the rhythm of drums. I spoke only loud enough for my words to reach her ears alone. "They have several people investigating possible uses for it. I heard Galliwix went to Tanaris to recruit someone named Grizzek. The general opinion is that he's the best." We stopped under a tree, watching the performance and taking advantage of the noise, a cloak to disguise our words. "He might have some interesting ideas, but he'll have to experiment with this azerite to figure out exactly what can be done."

She crossed her arms, acknowledging the information with a head gesture. "I see."

"Oh, I have been asked to give you this." I removed the wooden box from my backpack and offered it to her. "Ammax said that's just a small preview of what's to come," I explained while she admired the necklace.

"This is the beginning of a new era," she murmured, after a moment's reflection. She closed the box and gave it to Nathanos, who stuffed it in one of his pockets.

"There's something else," I started carefully, and she stared, waiting for me to continue. "I saw a member of SI:7." I threw a pointed look at her, and crossed my arms as well.

She frowned, understanding its meaning at once. "And the body?"

I looked around casually to make sure no one was listening. "I got rid of it in a... Sensible way." She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes before I explained. "I dumped the body in a Silithid hive and covered my tracks. The bugs get fresh meat, and the Alliance can't blame us for the incompetence of their spies." I shrugged, masking how pleased I was with myself. "I figured you wouldn't want the Alliance sniffing around the azerite, so everyone wins."

Her eyes glinted as she smirked, turning her attention back to the dancing Tauren. "You did well." Then she shifted her weight to another foot, drawing her eyebrows together. "Unfortunately, the Alliance already knows. Magni Bronzebeard has been telling everyone everything."

She then informed me of the conversation they'd had with The Speaker earlier and how he explained that our planet was in pain. The azerite we were trying to use for our benefit was nothing more than Azeroth's own blood, pouring out of the open wound caused by Sargeras’ sword. These were worrying news and not something we could simply ignore or wish away.

"Are we doing something about it?" A pang of distress tugged on my chest as I searched her face for hints of unvoiced concerns, but there were none. 

"It's being taken care of," she replied, indicating the topic was over. "Anything else to report?"

"Humm... Yes." I hesitated, still unsure if this was the right call. "I found something potentially interesting." I searched my backpack for the leather notebook and offered it to her.

"What is this?" 

"The spy was carrying it. As far as I discovered, it belonged to an ogre living at the Twilight Outpost, who claimed to have visions of the future." She opened it, flipping to a random page, as I continued. "I checked the place and found his body, already half-eaten by wild creatures."

She raised an eyebrow, waving the notebook. "What makes you think I care about this?"

I peeked to see what page she was on and then turned a leaf onto the next page. I leaned my shoulder against the tree trunk, waiting, as her eyes darted through the text, realisation slowly setting in.

_Ogmot sees lady wrapped in dark swirlies. She leads herd of blind sheep._

_Da sheepies follow her everplace she go. Do everthin she say. Never doubt lady._

_She guide dem over tall cliff! SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT! Stupid sheepies!_

_Da crows get fat eatin da sheepflesh. Da lady laugh as crows eat!_

She pursed her lips, the lines on her face getting deeper with anger as her frown intensified. She stared at the page long after she was finished reading, and I observed her in silence until she was ready to resume the conversation.

"This is nothing of importance," she grumbled, in a sudden low tone.

A male Tauren approached, glancing at us as he walked by. I paused until he was out of earshot before replying. "It was important enough for the Alliance, apparently. Either way, I thought you should know. The information is now yours to do as you please," I shrugged again, keeping my tone matter-of-factly.

She closed the journal with more force than necessary and pushed it against Nathanos' chest with a sharp movement. She watched me, and I held her burning glare with confidence as she analysed my expression for any signs of doubt. I remained calm and collected to show her I was unbothered by the text we both read—and by her reaction to it.

"Thank you," she finally said with a slight head movement, the embers in her eyes subsiding again. "Come with me." She gestured for me to follow as she resumed our walk. "We need to find a proper place to talk. The rest of our conversation tonight must be absolutely private."


	7. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: violence, animal death

# Chapter Six

The resounding beat of the drums faded away as the elevator descended, being replaced by the wild sounds of the forest. As it reached the ground, we stepped onto the wooden ramps, walking down to the fields, and Sylvanas glanced over her shoulder, ordering Nathanos to stay behind without exchanging a single word.

A flatland cougar roamed nearby, sniffing at the air for prey. The big cat planted its front paws firmly on the ground and pushed the rear end back and up, stretching its four feet long body with a lazy yawn. A couple of cubs came running out of the darkness, all gangly limbs and swishy tails, in a surprise attack to their mother.

Sylvanas led the way to a small cluster of trees, the soft grass crunching beneath our feet, with the moon and the stars casting their light over us. She leaned her back against a tree trunk and folded her arms on her chest before speaking. "Tell me, Omellas. How would you take Stormwind right now?" 

My forehead creased, eyebrows drawing together and a confused look settling on my face. "I- I don't understand."

Sylvanas examined me, propping a leg on the trunk, loosening the restraints of the heavy Warchief mantle that she wore in public. "If I asked you to come up with a plan to take Stormwind for the Horde, what would you do?"

A million thoughts and ideas flitted through my mind immediately—this time she was definitely testing me. My brain scrambled to find the right answer as I observed the beasts absentmindedly. Momma cougar fell to the side, exposing her belly to the little ones, and they jumped around her, nibbling on her paws and ears, their tiny roars wafting towards us in the chilly breeze. 

With the recent war against the Legion, both the Alliance and the Horde saw their numbers drastically reduced, both sides marked with the bruises of substantial casualties and deprivation. Even though I was unsure what those numbers actually were—my clearance was not that high—I knew that resuming the war with the Alliance wasn't exactly an option. And I also knew that Sylvanas was aware of this—she had to be—which meant there was a less obvious answer to her question.

A faint rustle to our right caught our attention, and we both turned our heads towards the source. A small group of plainstriders approached, pecking at the ground nonchalantly. On the other side, the mother cougar nibbled on the back of her cub's neck, first demanding silence, and then nudging them with her nose, encouraging them to go after their prey.

"We can't just walk through the front door and ask them to give it to us, they are not that weak," I started, as a lighthearted joke. "And I don't think we have the numbers or resources to take it by force at the moment."

"No, we do not," she agreed, shaking her head.

In the aftermath of the latest conflict, everyone was still recovering. Many were still healing. We were only starting to rebuild our lives and our cities. Resources had been depleted on both sides, and those took time to restore—crops required time to regrow, the mines had to be manned, ores needed to be mined and reforged into weapons, trees had to grow and be taken down, new ships had to be built. And then there was the azerite question—we still didn't know what to do with it or how to use it and, especially, how the Alliance planned on using it against us.

The cubs attacked at once, running aimlessly towards the birds, scattering them without care and even making a few run away. Plainstriders, though flightless, were among the fastest creatures in Mulgore—the cubs' short legs were no match for them. They turned around and dawdled back to their momma, tails low with disappointment by the failure of their plan.

"I don't think it's in our best interest to start a conflict with the Alliance at this point, even though they might deserve it." I turned my attention towards Sylvanas again, only to realise that she was watching me too. "We just don't have the means to support the war effort." 

She nodded in agreement, pleased with my analysis of the situation. "So what would you do?" 

The momma cougar decided to show the little ones how they should've approached the hunt. They stayed behind, watching intently, as she stalked her prey with her belly grazing the low grass, hiding and blending in with the shadows. 

Open war with the Alliance was far from ideal. The realisation of that simple fact left us with only one other option—we had to go undercover. We would need to find a way to open the doors from the inside, and then we could just walk in and take over, claiming Stormwind for ourselves.

"I would get someone inside and find out their weaknesses," I replied, with assurance. "Destroy them from within." 

Sylvanas nodded again, a sly smile spreading through her lips. "Are you thinking about spies?"

I considered that possibility for a moment. A large number of spies in times of peace could be seen as an act of aggression, which would then lead to conflict. They could be captured and killed. They could be manipulated into reaching the wrong conclusions. These were all undesirable situations that had to be avoided at all costs. "No. Spies are... Fallible. This is too important to rely on them. Spies are not the answer here."

"Then what is the answer?"

The cougar progressed inch by inch, waiting patiently for an opportunity. The bird she had chosen was alone, separated from the group, vulnerable. _Peck, peck, peck,_ it went, feeding on delicious seeds hidden in the grass, oblivious to danger.

The threads of an answer pulled at my thoughts, and I narrowed my eyes to focus, trying to untangle them. Anduin Wrynn had been thrust into a position of power before his time, still too young and inexperienced. First, he lost his mother, and then his father. No friends his age were known. He was all alone. His kingdom suffered severe losses recently, so he would probably want to keep the peace until they had a chance at recovery. We could take advantage of that. My eyes widened at the idea materializing in my brain, so solid it was almost corporeal enough to touch.

"I would send someone trustworthy, as an ambassador, to serve as a link between our factions. Gain Anduin's trust and spy on the city freely at the same time."

She moved for the first time in what seemed like ages, walking away a few steps and then turning back. "What if I told you we already have someone who's been in contact with him?"

"Who is it?"

"Baine Bloodhoof." I winced. Baine was a wise leader, but entirely too fond of peace, his heart too pure for this kind of sabotage and misconduct. He did not strike me as the right person for the job.

The cougar tensed, muscles ready for the kill, as she lunged forward. Before the plainstrider realised it, the cougar was already sprinting at full speed. Feathers rustled as the startled bird threw itself on a run, but it was too late. The cougar jumped, landing claws first on the plainstrider's back, and they rolled together on the floor, struggling for control. The feeble strider had no chance of winning this fight and ended up being dragged by the neck.

The task we were discussing would require a significant compromise of feelings and morals—Bloodhoof, despite being a great leader for his people, would never be strong enough to do what needed to be done. Sylvanas should know this. Putting Baine in contact with Anduin did not seem like the right move.

And then I saw it, clear as a cloudless day.

"This is not your doing, is it?"

"No," she confirmed, a touch of venom seeping into her words. "They have been exchanging letters behind my back."

I hesitated, not wanting to overstep. "With all due respect, my Queen, Bloodhoof is not the person we are looking for to carry this mission." I briefly wondered if she was planning on charging him with treason—communicating in secret with the leader of our rival faction was the very definition of treason, independently of the topics they had discussed or the kind of information that had been exchanged.

She nodded. "You understand." She stopped pacing in front of me, arm on her hip and flames in her eyes. "I have commanded him to sever this connection immediately, but I do not want the Alliance to think we are severing _all_ the communication lines. They need to think we are invested in keeping the peace."

"Are we not invested in keeping the peace?"

She lowered her head, waiting in silence for me to get there. My lips parted in surprise, and I looked at her with such intensity, I was sure she would be able to read my thoughts. All those questions were not an exercise—they were a plan. "I see," I replied, hands turning into fists by my side.

The cougar dropped the plainstrider next to her cubs. The bird tried to get up, but its legs had been injured in the fight. The cubs jumped on it nibbling where they could to assert their dominance, but none of them was able to deliver a killing blow. They ran around it, bringing it down every time the strider managed to get up.

This is what she meant before. She really was expecting dark times. We were born to fight and die in agony. That's all there was to life. War. Pain. Death. A cycle that never seemed to stop. Over and over and over again we would clash against the Alliance, entire generations living and dying on the battlefield.

 _She guide dem over tall cliff_ , I recalled, my temples throbbing with the threat of an incoming headache. _Stupid sheepies!_ No, Sylvanas would never hurt us just for the sake of it. If she wanted to take Stormwind, she must have a good reason to do so—even if she would not share it with everyone else.

"I am pleased with this plan.” Her voice cleared my sour thoughts, guilt washing over me for doubting her motives. “You shall go to Stormwind as an official envoy of the Horde."

"Me?"

"I do not trust Bloodhoof the way I trust you. You are the right person for this mission. You are to report everything directly to me. I need you to learn everything you can about the city and especially Anduin Wrynn.”

I shifted my weight, suddenly unsure of the validity of this plan. I could see a million flaws and a million ways for it to go wrong, holes and dead ends that would lead only to ruin. "How long am I to stay in Stormwind?" 

"As long as possible.” A cloud rolled over the moon, casting deep shadows over us, and Sylvanas’ eyes glowed with a rich ruby color like life-saving beacons in the dark. “This is not going to be an easy task. There are many in Anduin's circle who will oppose directly to your presence. Particularly-"

"Greymane," I interrupted. That walking fleabag would always be a thorn in our side. I could not wait to wrap my hands around his furry neck and squeeze the air out of his lungs until he-

"Exactly. Expect him to interfere with your mission every step of the way. He will try to hurt you.”

I nodded, adrenaline rushing through my veins, spreading through my brain as I pictured myself snuffing the light out of his eyes. "I know. I can handle it."

"Do not engage him in open conflict. Remember—Anduin is your mission. Greymane shall be dealt with later."

I nodded again, masking my disappointment. Not strangling Greymane with my bare hands would take all of my strength, but she was right—it would be counterproductive. "Understood, my Queen.”

“The Wrynn boy needs to trust you." Her eyes narrowed at me before continuing. "Do whatever you need to do."

She was touching on one of the most glaring flaws of the plan, a gaping wound like the one in Silithus. "I'm a blood elf who is absolutely loyal to you,” I commented, knowing perfectly well everyone in that city would hate my guts as soon as they laid eyes on me. “How is he ever going to trust me?"

The flames in her eyes grew brighter as she moved closer to me. Too close. Her icy skin ignited the air in my lungs when she touched me, pushing me tenderly against the tree with a hand on my side and a palm pressed against my cheek. Then she cupped my chin, lifting my head and lowering hers at the same time, squeezing my waist for a moment so sweet like winter sunsets and colourful healing potions. When she took my hand and placed it in her own neck, the entire world seemed to close in on us like a bubble. Her lips covered mine, and I was so lost with bliss that I barely felt her fingers sliding down my throat, enclosing my neck like the freezing grasp of death. And then she stepped away, stealing the ground from beneath my feet and shattering the glass case of euphoria she had built for us.

"How did that make you feel?" Shock wrapped around me like vile tendrils when her voice remained impassive and unwavering as if she hadn't just shared a passionate, breathtaking moment with me. "Answer me. Be honest," she commanded, as the wind picked up around us and our hair whirled between us.

That one kiss was _everything_. Feelings growing deep in the shadows emerged, ready to fight for their rightful place within me. The tenderness of her gesture had led me to believe she felt the same way about me, but I could not see any of that in her eyes now. The same affection I'd seen for years was still there, yet the passion she set ablaze in my chest was just my own. Maybe it hadn't been the same for her. It dawned on me that perhaps she did it with the same clinical and rational approach she did everything else—a means to an end. 

The wind felt colder now, and I wished it would just freeze me whole. Maybe then this twisted nightmare we had become would just go away. When had we turned into this mess of bleeding hearts and calculated touches? My mind, once strong, was now swimming in fabricated feelings and sick delusions that-

 _Fabricated feelings_... 

Receiving small tidbits of unique knowledge and wisdom here and there was a benefit of living around Sylvanas, and out of all her life lessons over the years, perhaps the most important one was that I should never let emotions cloud my judgement. This moment was just a reminder that I was failing miserably at that. _Feelings are for the weak,_ the thought carrying an unfamiliar ache that settled in my chest like it was home _._ I cleared my throat before speaking, forcing myself to mimic her attitude. "Objectively speaking, I felt… validated." I swallowed hard before continuing, pushing everything down, as deep as I could, so it would never come out again. "I felt loved." Fighting to sound detached, even as I admitted to my own failure in the fine print, I gritted my teeth and returned her stare.

The corner of her lip twitched as she suppressed a smile. "Your heart was racing. Why?"

This person, this unreachable, untouchable power figure I had idolised my entire life had just created the most intimate experience we had ever shared. And she was absolutely right—my heart was still drumming in my ears, trying to consume all the allotted beats for an entire lifetime in just a minute. My body betrayed me with a simple touch, spilling all the secrets and feelings my mind had worked so hard to keep hidden. And all the while, she felt nothing. My fingers curled up into my palm, remembering the sensation of the cold skin on her neck, still as stone—no uneven breathing, no racing heartbeat, no secrets coming to the surface without her consent.

_My body betrayed me._

"The living are predictable, emotional creatures, betrayed by their own bodies." I walked away from her to think.

King Anduin had to deal with the pressure of stepping into a leadership role too soon and too fast while still mourning the loss of his father—that was sure to leave more than a few emotional scars. He would need someone to hold on to, someone to trust. Did he have such a person in his life? 

Barely registering in a secluded corner of my mind how the ache in my chest turned into a frenzy of determination and hunter instinct, I paced back and forth in pursuit of the answer that was flowing to the tip of my tongue.

"King Anduin is young, barely an adult." Thoughts coiled like string, knotting themselves into patterns of conclusions and outcomes. "He's probably emotionally vulnerable. I can use that to my advantage."

I stopped mid-stride, finally able to see the full picture.

The strider scrambled to its feet once again, limping away as quickly as it could. Yet, this time, momma cougar was tired of playing games. She jumped, claws ready, roar filling the night. _Snap_. The strider's neck cracked between the cougar's teeth, head and body dangling from its mouth until she dropped the lifeless carcass on the floor so that the cubs could feed and grow stronger. Deadlier.

I turned sharply towards Sylvanas. "He needs to break," I concluded, devoid of any remaining emotion at the realisation of what was required of me. She finally released the crooked smile she had been holding back. " _I_ have to break him."


	8. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: blood, injury

# Chapter Seven

Nathanos' expert hand glided through the page, composing text in a script that was entirely foreign to me—the smooth combination of vertical and round lines produced an alphabet with an exquisite look. It used the same sounds as my native Thalassian, but the strokes, while still elegant, had a much simpler form. I took a piece of paper from the pile sitting on the corner of the desk and dipped my quill in the black ink bottle. Tracing the letters as Nathanos had shown me, I focused on matching them with the corresponding sounds until everything came out naturally. 

We had been working for several hours when my stomach growled out loud, the recognisable discomfort of hunger shooting through my belly like lightning. I gritted my teeth and ignored it, focused on decoding the sentences Nathanos had written for me, but he grunted loudly when it happened a second time. "Can you keep it quiet?"

He never mentioned what happened in the woods—I was expecting another confrontation, more jealousy, perhaps even a slap or two. I could almost smell the resentment emanating from him over his ginger cologne, with the hatred he felt for me running in his veins instead of blood and ichor. His temper seemed to be extra short, but apparently, he would only be dishing out more complaints about how alive I still was.

I sighed, left hand rubbing small circles over my stomach to calm it down. "Some of us aren't lucky enough to be able to live without food, you know?"

He paused before groaning again. Getting up in one swift movement, he left without looking at me or saying another word. 

The smell of freshly cooked meat reached me about half an hour later. I turned around as he entered the room and placed a tray with kodo steak, mushrooms, sweet potatoes and steamed vegetables in front of me. Before I could open my mouth to thank him, he grumbled "Shut up," and took the piece of paper I had been working on. 

"Dinner for breakfast is the best thing," I exclaimed instead. The steak was cooked to perfection, practically melting in my mouth as I took the first bite.

Nathanos frowned as he reviewed my work, clearly uncomfortable with my gratitude. "I guess you have a passable understanding of the basics. Now write everything backwards."

"Backwards?"

"Yes, mirror the letters and write the text in the opposite direction." He threw the paper carelessly to the centre of the desk. "Can I leave you alone to complete that task or is your brain too small to figure this out?"

Behind him, the first rays of sunshine bled through the cracks in the hides the Tauren used instead of walls. A gloomy cloud hovered over me, drizzling uncertainty drops that soaked through to my bones. Only a restricted number of people in Sylvanas' circle could use this language—I had to master it before leaving for Stormwind and time was slipping through my fingers like sand.

"I got it, don't worry," I mumbled, unable to hide traces of doubt that seeped into my tone. 

"Good." He turned his back on me but hesitated before walking away. "You reek of fear. Do not let the Alliance smell this stink on you, or you'll be buried before you even set foot in Stormwind."

He was right, of course. Trusting myself would play a massive part in my mission. I stared at the work we'd done through the night and felt proud of myself—I was, after all, learning a whole new language and I had shown significant progress in just a few hours. That thought itself gave me the confidence I needed to continue working.

I spent all morning practising both forms of the script until I could write all of the letters without referencing the cheat sheet done by Nathanos. Writing everything backwards wasn't exactly hard—it just required a lot of focus and mental gymnastics.

The sun marked noon in the sky when I put down my quill. My right hand was sore and my back stiff for sitting in the same position for too long. When Nathanos came back, he raised an eyebrow at me as I rubbed my tired eyes. "You look like shit."

"And you look dead, what else is new?"

His lips twitched, and he gritted his teeth—it seemed he was trying to suppress a rogue smirk that was pushing to come out against his will. "Show me your mediocre work. I don't have all day." I shared with him the texts I had been working on all morning, and he scoffed. "Pathetic."

"Looks good to me," Sylvanas said behind him, taking a peek over his shoulder. "Are you forgetting it took you nearly a week to master this, _my Champion_?"

The permanent frown on his face deepened. "It was five days," he muttered under his breath. I clenched my jaw to suppress the urge to mock him. I would put this one in my pocket and save it for a rainy day.

"Omellas still has two more days to practice before leaving for Stormwind," she replied, with a teasing smile. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who enjoyed taunting grumpy Nathanos. "I am sure her handwriting will be more than satisfactory by then."

"It's still a disappointing effort," he insisted, determined to cut in half my gloating smile with his sharp words. "If this is the best you can do, we are all doomed."

"Relax, Blightcaller." I countered, taking the papers from him. "I'll write to you every day to practice!"

His frown turned into a nauseated grimace as if the idea itself would make him vomit. "I will personally go to Stormwind and break all your fingers one by one."

I was enjoying this friendly banter, but Sylvanas raised a hand to put a stop to it. While she looked amused, it was clear she had more important things to do. "We use the mirrored letters to convey urgency or danger," she explained, making her way to the table and scattering the papers to get a better look at them. "Otherwise, you can use the regular version."

A stray ray of sunlight hit her left pauldron, casting shadows over the familiar etchings along the top as she moved around. I was finally able to read the text that had been the source of many rumours and whispers inside the Horde, a secret well kept until now. "If you want to return to Orgrimmar as we discussed," she continued, taking my attention elsewhere, "I can offer my mage to open a portal for you."

I nodded. "That is very kind, my Queen. Thank you." I gathered my stuff and flung my backpack over my shoulder, as the familiar sound of Wildgaze's hooves floated in from outside the building. 

"Just try not to get yourself killed," Nathanos added, with a weird note in his tone that sounded oddly like veiled affection. It turns out broken hearts recognise each other, after all.

"Try not to miss me too much while I'm gone!" I replied with a grin.

Wildgaze lifted his head, nickering happily as I approached, and I kissed his cheek, scratching his neck just the way he liked. Resting my left foot on the stirrup, I swung the other leg over his back and settled gently onto the saddle.

"Omellas," Sylvanas called out, prompting me to turn around. "Elu'meniel mal alann!"

The Thalassian farewell gripped my heart like thorny vines and pierced through the tender flesh, haemorrhaging memories I thought were long forgotten.

 _May peace calm your heart_ , my mother said when she tucked us in and kissed my sister and me goodnight before leaving for battle. Her scent lingered behind as she turned off the lights, a blanket of peaceblooms and leather the only thing that remained after she was gone.

 _May peace calm your heart_ , I told Amaria while I wiped away her tears with my thumbs as the Scourge tried to climb over each other to reach the tree branch we sat on, and her trembling arms wrapped around me. I hugged her small body as tight as I could before jumping down to lead them away, trying to give my little sister a chance to run home to safety, not knowing I would be the one to put an end to her undead life hours later.

 _May peace calm your heart_ , I begged, when I ran after Sylvanas to the entrance of Silvermoon, holding her living hand for the last time as she barked out orders with a frantic look, the Lich King and his army of Scourge bleeding through the fallen gates and wailing in the distance. She forbade me to follow her any further, ordering me to protect the city in her absence, both of us unaware that her dazzling grey eyes would soon disappear forever.

"We will bring the Alliance to its knees," I replied, receiving a single solemn nod in response, just like the one I'd given her back then. This time, neither of us would die. I would not allow it.

A portal rippled through the air in the middle of Hunter Rise, the wobbling gates of Orgrimmar framed in electric blue. Right before walking through, I glanced back one last time as Sylvanas turned around to go on with her endless Warchief duties, menacing skulls on her pauldrons glinting in the sunshine. The words she had carved on them would be permanently engraved into my mind. _I've walked the realms of the dead,_ read the right side _._ And on the other one, the words written backwards like the threat of imminent danger, _I have seen the infinite dark_. 

*

Gentle rain trickled down through the bright green leaves of the hardwoods in Elwynn Forest, helping the moss grow in the uneven stones of the main path. I pulled my plum hood up as we trotted along Crystal Lake, quiet and serene like the damp forest. Most of the small wild creatures were hiding from the rain, but a pair of rabbits hopped alongside us for a while, jumping around each other with their button noses sniffing the ground for the tastiest grass.

I was hoping that riding slowly through Alliance territory would give the Stormwind guard enough time to prepare for my arrival—the last thing I wanted to do was startle them with my sudden appearance. They were sure to have scouts and wards to give them early notice that potential enemies were approaching the city.

As I rode through Goldshire, the few people on the street turned their heads to watch me, as if I was a one-woman parade. I ignored the humans gawking at me and turned northwest at the crossroads, following the winding road up the hill. 

When the outer wall of Stormwind peeked proudly between the trees, I adjusted my position on the saddle so that Wildgaze would slow down to a steady walk. Just as I laid eyes upon the gates opening down to the forest, I stopped and dismounted, stroking his black mane. "It's going to be okay," I said, unsure if I was trying to calm him down or reassure myself. I could hear the guards on the wall, scrambling to assume defensive positions, and then a group of nine Stormwind guards rode down the path to meet me, looking mighty official with their fully armoured horses and tall Stormwind flags on the saddles. I placed my bow on the ground and backed away with my hands in the air to show I meant no harm.

The group parted to let a tall, broad man pass through. The faint breeze ruffled his white hair as he scowled at me, dark black coat rippling behind him with each long stride. The ground shook beneath his feet with the weight of the hatred packed in his steel-blue eyes.

"You!" Greymane's voice was low and husky, more like a growl than a human tone. A small part of me hoped he wouldn't recognise me, but his clenched fists told a different story—one of loss and hurt, one that the threads of time had stitched onto his body so he would never forget.

"My name is Omellas Bloodforged, and-"

"I don't give a damn what your name is," he interrupted, raising his voice and the hairs on the back of my neck. "You are not welcome here!"

I clenched my jaw, hate rising like bile on my stomach. I bit my tongue to stop it from gushing out, and took another step back instead, hoping it would show some respect on my part. "The Warchief sent me with a message for King Anduin Wrynn."

He made a sound of derision, hostility exuding from every pore on his skin. "The Banshee sends spies to our front door now, and she expects us to welcome them with open arms!"

It was a reasonable assumption on his part, one that I did not wish to entertain. It was less than ideal to have Greymane greet me at the gates, but I had to work with it—I had to push him as far as I could. "I shall discuss the purpose of my visit with King Anduin."

He left out a disgusted laugh. "You are crazy if you think I am letting you in the city."

I put my arms down and shrugged, growing increasingly tired of his games. "Then I shall wait out here until King Anduin has some spare time to come and talk to me."

"Whatever you have to say to him, you can say to me," he said, stubborn in his resolution. "I will not allow him to speak with you."

Neither of us would stand down. I had no chances of succeeding in my mission if Anduin refused to see me. Greymane would never accept any kind of good gesture on my part—there was too much bad blood between us. I had to make his desire to hurt me grow so urgent that he wouldn't simply let me turn around and go home. He had to _want_ me to stay so that he could get proper revenge, get all the throbbing memories out of his heart and throw them at me like boulders. "It's sad that it takes a Horde member to remind you that Anduin Wrynn is your King, and therefore you don't have the authority not to allow him to see me. My message is for the King of Stormwind," I repeated, unyielding and provocative. "You are the king of _nothing_." 

He marched towards me, and I braced myself for the inevitable incoming pain when he raised his fist. I lost balance when he punched me hard in the face, barely keeping myself from falling. Wildgaze neighed loudly, stomping his feet on the ground. I grabbed his reins to calm him down as a sharp ache flared up from my nose, bringing tears to my eyes. I blinked them away, wiping my nose on the back of my hand. Greymane managed to make me bleed with a single punch, and I was delighted at how easy it was to rile him up. I would love to break all his bones with my bare hands, but I was under strict orders not to engage in a fight with the mutt, so I had to take it quietly and hope that Anduin's soft heart would intercede for me.

A small crowd had started to gather on the sides of the road—another thing I could use to my advantage. Everyone had witnessed him losing control and attacking someone who would not be striking back. I stared fearlessly at the old man, head held high, focused on not showing any emotion on my face. "The Warchief sent me with a message for King Anduin Wrynn," I repeated, once again, choosing to rely on memorised words rather than go off on my own. "You might be present if he so desires, but I will not disclose any information to you alone."

Greymane's nostrils flared when he growled, shadows taking over his eyes as if he was about to attack again. I flinched when he raised a hand, but he used it to signal the guards to approach instead of hitting me again. "Take her away," he ordered.

I did not resist when they bound my hands with rough ropes that cut into my skin, nor when they dragged me behind their horses through the city, like cattle being taken to the slaughterhouse.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: graphic depictions of violence, injury, blood

# Chapter Eight

The cell was damp and cold—the kind of cold that seeps into your bones and freezes you from within. What passed for a bed was a dirty rag on a long, flat stone, sitting directly underneath a small window with bars near the ceiling. Muddy water trickled in from the street through the opening and directly onto my "bed", so I chose to sit in a corner on the opposite side instead, hugging my knees to keep warm.

No one came to visit for the rest of the day, not even to bring any meals. The guard patrolling that wing of the stockades would occasionally walk by in silence, pretending not to see me. I didn't talk to him either. They knew what I wanted—there was no point in repeating it into oblivion—and I refused to beg for food. The basin on the left side of the entrance provided some water that dripped from the faucet like life-sustaining tears.

The last time Greymane saw me, I stabbed him in the leg, and he threw me at a wall so hard that I blacked out. That encounter at Skold-Ashil was a failure in multiple ways for everyone involved—Sylvanas had failed to capture Eyir, I had failed to protect her, and then we all had failed to kill each other. No one could say his desire to hurt me was surprising. Yet, I expected slightly better living conditions—the cells in Orgrimmar were, at least, dry.

The rain continued through the night, as the darkness fell over my cage like a shroud. As I curled up on the floor to sleep, I thought about Wildgaze, hoping someone was taking care of him. He was an innocent creature, and I did not wish him to pay for having me as his owner.

Those walls, that floor, the dust in the air and the water droplets on the walls, they were all burdened by centuries of prisoner lives and stories. I could feel their weight crushing me in that space designed to break bodies and souls. Sleep did not come easy, and when it arrived, it carried nightmares and terror once again. My sleep was haunted by hundreds of faces, those I failed to save and those I sent to the afterlife. They all came back to punish me most nights, but it was different in that cell—dreams more vivid than reality itself, hands grasping my clothes, scratching my skin, voices howling and the rain falling on me like acid.

I woke up drenched in sweat but so cold that even shivering was painful. It was still dark and pouring outside. Incoming footsteps echoed loudly through the corridor, heavy keys jangling as the lock turned to open the door before two guards came into the cell. The first one picked me up from the floor, and the other yanked my arms back, wrapping coarse rope tightly around my wrists—tight enough to make my joints protest and ache. The pain from my old wound flared up, and I gritted my teeth to stop a whimper from spilling out of me as they pushed me towards the back wall, one of them yelling, "Stay there!"

Another set of footsteps approached as the guards positioned themselves on each side of the door. Greymane's grimace greeted me a few seconds later, soaked clothes dripping onto a puddle on the floor, and clenched fists ready to meet my face again.

"What are you doing here?" His tone was calm, but his eyes disclosed the real thunder within.

"You stink like a wet dog," I replied, a malicious crooked smile covering my lips.

The first jab hit me in the eye, making it water and swell, the pain extending to my brain like a landslide. I stumbled but pulled myself together to stand tall again. It was worth it.

"What is your purpose?" His voice was rising as anger took over him, lips curling up to reveal grinding teeth eager to sink into my throat, like the beast he was.

"I told you, the Warchief sent me with a message for King Anduin," I repeated, earning another punch. This time, the target was my jaw, making me hit the back of my head on the wall behind me. Pain shot through my skull again, my vision faltering and wobbling around the edges. Everything went black for a moment, my legs barely supporting my weight. But I still stood, defiantly, unyielding. My plan would work. It had to work.

"I can do this all night," he warned, opening and closing both fists, preparing to release all his pent up energy on me.

"You know, for a dog, you really lack intelligence."

His fist sank into my ribs, stealing the air from my lungs. He grunted with the effort of throwing all his weight onto it as he punched me again and again. My legs refused to hold me up any longer, and I fell, doubling over to cough the pain away, to recover the oxygen I was having trouble finding. And then he kicked me in the face, blood splattering everywhere and pooling in my mouth as it gushed from my split lower lip. It throbbed violently when I spat at his feet, trying to get rid of the coppery taste that permeated my mouth.

"You can hit me all you want, mutt" I murmured, heartbeat pounding in my ears, my body reduced to a mess of aching bruises. "Release all that rage. It won't make a difference."

I tried to sit up but failed, head too dizzy, the room spinning around me like a carousel. Unable to use my arms to push myself up, I just rested there on the floor next to his boots, trying to regain some of the strength he had taken away from me. The ice in my veins was gone, replaced by heat and turmoil. The cold floor was pleasant against my hot forehead, helping me keep myself grounded.

"Anduin is not here to save you," he shouted, bulking muscles rising and falling as he breathed deeper through the fury that consumed him. "I am in charge of this city!"

I recalled watching him from afar in Gilneas, years ago, before Sylvanas ordered me to retreat with her. He was the one who fell to the floor then, wailing on his knees, clutching the body of his dying son against his chest. The memory was still raw as if it was only a few days old. I was the one being kicked now, but he would be the one to crumble.

"Remember what happened the last time you were in charge of a city?" Forcing myself to move, I pushed through the pain to get on my feet and opened my one good eye so I could watch as the full effect of my words covered him like a dome, pushing him over the edge. "You drove your own kid into the bottom of a bottle, and then you got him killed. Is that your plan for the Wrynn boy as well?"

Greymane paused for a second, letting it sink in, the words bruising him deep within in a way he could never bruise me. And then his rage exploded all at once, growls turning into roars, echoing through the cell from wall to wall, shaking the stockade to its very core. He shifted into his beast form, pain slashing across my face as he bashed me with his claws, the force of the impact throwing me to the floor again. He grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled me up, lifting me as if I was nothing more than a rag doll, and prepared to throw me across the room like he had done before at the Vault of Eyir.

"Genn! Stop!" A voice boomed behind him as someone ran into the room, stopping right next to us. "What have you done?"

"She deserves it! I should've killed her when I had the chance!" He dropped me abruptly, and I crawled away as fast as I could. "I'm gonna kill her! I'm gonna kill her right now! Move away, Anduin, this does not concern you!"

The boy placed a hand on Greymane's furry chest to keep him away. "Get out! Now!" He stood between the worgen and me to make his point come across clearer, using his own body to shield me from further harm. "We will discuss this in the morning!"

The mutt's breathing came out ragged, his whole body shaking as he tried to stare Anduin down. "Do not make me repeat it!" The King's tone was unmistakable—he was not to be crossed.

"As you command, Your Majesty," Greymane grumbled, giving up and shifting back into a human before walking away.

Anduin crouched and reached towards me, but I shied away from his touch as his royal garbs carried the faint smell of peaceblooms and the unexpected sting of old memories. I didn't realize what I did until I saw the alarmed look on his face. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise!"

I turned around, allowing him to remove the rope from my wrists, and I did not fail to notice the slight shakiness of his fingers as he untied the knots. "I apologize for the way you were treated." His voice was soft and gentle as our eyes locked. "Are you okay?"

I held his gaze, knowing full well that my miserable state was telling him everything he needed to know. "I'm okay, Your Majesty."

"Can you stand?" I nodded, and he held me close to his chest as he helped me up, pausing until he was sure I could stand on my own.

"Thank you for coming to see me," I said, wincing as I tried to stay upright. The sharp pain on my chest every time I inhaled was probably a sign of a cracked rib, so I hugged myself with one arm, trying to keep everything together.

Anduin's sky-blue eyes, engulfed in sorrow, skimmed across my face as he raised his hands, calling forth a yellow glow while he murmured a prayer to the Light. An odd inner peace flooded my heart. The swelling on my left eye went down enough for me to open it, and when my fingertips touched my lip, they came out dry. It was easier to breathe and to stand, and most of my aches were gone.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," I said, bowing my head. "You are most kind."

"Please, sit." He motioned towards the poor excuse for a bed, before walking to the water basin on the corner. He produced a handkerchief from his pocket and dipped it in the water. "Genn can be a bit hot-headed," he explained, sitting next to me. "May I?" He motioned towards my face with the handkerchief, and I nodded in agreement. He wiped the blood from my cheeks with small gestures, careful not to hurt me. "What is your name?" His eyes were focused on the job at hand, brows drawn together and jaw set with penance. There was something intriguing about him, something my body could sense but was unable to see, like thorns hiding behind starlight petals.

"I am Omellas Bloodforged, Your Majesty."

He dabbed the handkerchief where Greymane's claws had ripped through my flesh while I gritted my teeth, trying not to recoil from the pain. "Omellas is a beautiful name."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," I replied, offering him a modest smile.

He paused, eyes drifting up to mine, and a smile spreading to his lips as well. "I heard you have a message for me?"

"Yes, I do. Lady Sylvanas sent me as a special envoy from the Horde." He listened intently, hand falling on his lap, forgotten. "She wishes to inform you that the Horde is committed to keeping the currently existing armistice between our factions and she would like me to stay here as a spokesperson for the Horde if you allow me. She is also open to receiving someone from the Alliance in Orgrimmar if you so wish."

"It gives me great joy to hear this." He moved to work on the other side of my face, my eyebrow stinging with a wound I didn't even know I had. "But you could've told Genn that."

"Lady Sylvanas made it clear I was to talk only to you. When you've known her as long as I have, you understand that her orders are not to be disrespected, even if it doesn't look like a big deal." I chuckled lightly and shrugged. "Besides, if I had told _him_ this, he would've sent me back before I even had the chance to talk to you."

He chuckled too. "Yes, he probably would." He sat back and stared at me for a moment, studying my face, undoubtedly looking for unspoken words. "My people think you're a spy."

Thick raindrops thumped on the grass outside, trickling down the wall and dampening the rag beneath us. Anduin's long blue coat was all wet, and his white shirt, embroidered with golden thread, was stained with red splatters. Yet, he didn't seem to mind. A couple of wet locks of hair were stuck to his temples, but he was still clutching his handkerchief, worried about cleaning the blood off my skin.

"You don't agree with them," I pointed out, pleased by how easy Anduin was to read if you looked close enough. His eyes were an infinite horizon full of possibilities, a maze of hopeful roads and mysterious desires. They were also an open window that revealed the truth inside him.

"Why do you say that?"

I glanced at my wrists, rubbing the thin pink lines that marked the spots where the ropes had chafed the skin. "You wouldn't be here taking care of me if you did."

He tilted his head to one side, pausing to consider my answer. Then he got up to hide the smirk that threatened to appear on his lips, and rinsed the handkerchief in silence, clean water running through it and coming out a dark pink.

"I am not a spy, Your Majesty," I assured, as he sat back down by my side.

"That's something a spy might say." He fidgeted with the handkerchief in his lap for a moment, folding and unfolding it, and then crumpling it in his hand.

"Spies don't usually try to get in through the front gates."

"That's a valid point. But-"

"Your Majesty." I interrupted, placing my hand on his. "The Warchief has plenty of spies at her disposal, as I'm sure you do too. I'm just... Me." I shrugged again as he glanced down, turning his hand so our palms would touch.

"Your hand is so cold," he mumbled. He tested the temperature on my forehead, eyebrows drawing together. "You're running a fever." A faint light emanated from his palm and surrounded my hand with a divine heat that spread through my entire body. It reminded me of azerite, but it felt entirely different—instead of a trip to a volcano, this felt more like a mellow afternoon walk in the summer. "Did you eat anything today?"

I shook my head, and his frown deepened. "I will have you moved to a better cell until I make a decision, and I will have someone bring you food and a blanket."

"You worry too much," I whispered, squeezing his hand, grateful for his care.

He continued to dab the handkerchief on my clammy neck with furrowed brows but serene eyes. There was no doubt in my mind that an Alliance person in Orgrimmar wouldn't have the same level of personal care by Lady Sylvanas, which made Anduin immensely fascinating to me.

"Your Majesty," I started, trying to get his eyes back on mine. I was determined to make him believe me, so I needed his undivided attention. This was a decisive moment, the one I had been beaten up to secure. The fact that he seemed to be angry at Greymane for how he mistreated me just added extra points in my favour. "We all suffered terrible losses." My voice cracked at the end of the sentence, followed by the swallowing of grief. "We had to work together to defeat a common enemy, and Lady Sylvanas feels that this alliance should be kept alive. Our people need peace, to heal and rebuild. There's no reason why we can't share this world." Anduin stared, our eyes glued together, drinking in every word to sate his palpable thirst for peace. "But if you do not wish me to stay, just say the words, and I'll be gone."

He paused for a long while, considering my words, and I smiled to soothe his doubts. Then he raised his hand, touching my jawline with his fingertips. "Please stay still," he murmured, patting the handkerchief below my lip. "I need to speak with my advisors before making a decision. I'm sure you will understand. And I'll make sure you are treated with respect from now on," he said, with a kind of sadness in his voice, as he inspected the small bruises that remained. "You didn't deserve to be treated like this."  


"I've had worse Your Majesty. I'll live."

When he finished his task, he got up to rinse the handkerchief one last time. The rain outside was softening to a stop when Anduin turned around, the flickering torchlight on the corridor dancing with the shadows on his face. The menial task of taking something dirty and making it clean again seemed to have calmed his spirit. When he looked at me, there was nothing but kindness in him, his anger forgotten, washed away along with the blood. "I will come back tomorrow with an answer for you. It was a pleasure to meet you, Omellas Bloodforged."

He opened the door and stepped out, the guards following him closely. I grabbed the bars on the door as he walked away and replied, knowing the echo would carry my voice to him. "Likewise, King Anduin Wrynn."


	10. Chapter Nine

# Chapter Nine

_"My sources tell me he has an unnatural ability to tell when people are lying. You must trust me deeply, body and soul, for this to work." Sylvanas' words were imprinted in my mind just as profoundly as the image of her hair fluttering in the north wind blowing through the plains of Mulgore. "For him to believe you're telling the truth, you need to believe it yourself. You need to believe that the words coming from your mouth are real."_

_"I understand, my Lady," I said, letting her voice wash over me and carve a space of its own in my brain. Everything depended on my ability to deceive someone who could not be deceived. I had to do the impossible without losing myself in the process. Our success, our future, it was my responsibility._

The echo of approaching footsteps disturbed my meditative trance, bringing me back from a world of devotion and faith in the deepest corners of my mind. I opened my eyes and blinked until they adjusted to reality again, memories fading away like shadows being chased by dawn. I had spent the afternoon locked inside my own head, trying to find a balance between conviction and the destruction of my identity, preparing for life in Stormwind. It would undoubtedly be as trying as the previous day—or worse.

I had a good feeling about Anduin. I was sure the insidious strands of my existence were already slithering into his brain, weaving the tangled web of our tale. I was sure he would let me stay. He _needed_ me to stay. 

And here he was now, surely ready to prove me right. Walking with the authority of a royal figure, he approached the cell, golden locks framing his young face, hands behind his back and a stiff jaw to set the mood.

"Your Majesty." I bowed my head and walked towards him, grabbing the iron bars on the door for comfort. The new cell did not have a window to confirm my observation, but I assumed the rain had finally stopped—his clothes were dry this time.

"My advisors have told me to send you away," he announced. It wasn't an order, but a simple comment. His shoulders were pushed back, lips in a rigid line, chin high as he looked down on me. Yet, there was still a unique warmth to his presence that he could not hide, even when he was trying hard to appear aloof and detached. 

The High King of the Alliance was trying to play a game he could not win.

"Very well," I replied, gently inclining my head and stepping back into the darkness. "I will be gone as soon as you give me back my horse."

"Will you go so easily? Wouldn't that be considered a failed mission?" He pressed for a reaction angled at dismissing or confirming his lingering doubts, but I could not give him the answer he was seeking. 

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, after what happened yesterday, I will consider it a success if I manage to get out of Stormwind alive."

Shadows flicked across his face, light jumping from his jaw to the cheekbone—there it was, the truth highlighted in ways his body could not conceal. His mask collapsed with the slightest motion in his jaw, teeth biting back on the remorse and guilt and that undeniable sour taste they left in his mouth. "I have told them I want you to stay."

"I'm sorry?" _What a surprise._

"I want you to stay," Anduin repeated, taking a small step forward, one hand resting on the door while the other turned the key. "I want this peace to last, too. It's a chance we can't afford to waste." The shrieking of old hinges filled the cell as he stood in the doorway, a boy playing a grown-up game of war and peace. "You will be given a private room in the Keep, and there will always be a guard at your door. But you will have limited access around the city, and the guard will escort you everywhere you go. Are these terms favourable to you?"

"Of course, Your Majesty."

"There's something else," he added, signalling someone who had approached us quietly while we talked. A young woman came in, eyeing me suspiciously with a frightened look, and handed some folded clothes to him. "I had someone pick out a set of clean clothes for you. I hope they fit you well. I had to guess the size."

"Thank you." I smiled at her, but she didn't smile back. Instead, she retreated quickly to the safety of the corridor, where she didn't have to be near the mean, scary blood elf. 

Our hands brushed together when he offered me the bundle, his skin as smooth as the silk on the clothes. "I will let you wash up and change, and then I would like to personally escort you to your room if that's okay?"

"That would be an honour, Your Majesty." I bowed again as he left, turning his back towards me respectfully while he waited. 

I hadn't dared to check the extent of my injuries until I took off my leather vest. My torso was littered with purple contusions, an impressive collection even for a soldier's standards. That would explain why my whole body was so sore—as if I'd been rolling down a cliff for a week, hitting every rock and bump along the way. Greymane's talent to hurt me had always been remarkable. I could only hope one day Lady Sylvanas would allow me to finally get my sweet revenge and deal the killing blow to end his miserable, cursed life.

They had provided a clean towel and a bar of soap, so I used them to wash up at the basin. I didn't have a mirror, but I could feel my hair was starting to mat in some places, dirty with dried blood, sweat and dust. I washed it as best as I could and braided it, so it would appear more elegant.

The clothes looked like typical Alliance garments, the kind I had not worn in many years. The white top with lace around the sleeves was a smidge too big, but the light blue skirt had just the right length to brush against the top of my feet and the brown sandals fit me well. Yet, I still felt uncomfortable in something so casual, so disconnected with the warring type of life I had grown accustomed to.

"Your majesty," I called, hands behind my back and a shy smile dancing on my lips as I swayed slowly from side to side.

He turned around, his expression lighting up like clouds parting to reveal the sun, the reserved and indifferent persona completely forgotten and pushed aside. "I'm glad the clothes fit you."

"They are wonderful!" I smoothed the front of the skirt with my hands, trying to get used to how foreign the delicate fabric felt over my body. "I haven't worn anything like this in a long time."

He extended a hand, and I let him guide me out of the cell into the scarcely lit passageway that led to the main corridor. I didn't realize how warm he was until he let go and the cold air of the stockade hurried to envelop my hand in his place.

We walked side by side, allowing the silence to settle around us, slow as dust and just as fickle. The stockade was full of small, echoing sounds—the lazy footsteps of patrolling guards, the occasional rattle of chains or keys, water drip-dropping somewhere in the distance, the chattering of mice and the scratching of their tiny claws on the stone floor. The gloomy corridors of the stockade, with the large cobwebs dangling from the ceiling and the torture devices casually resting along the passageways, didn't seem so bad in his company, somehow—as if Light itself flowed through Anduin to soothe everyone around him.

"Tell me more about you," Anduin started, climbing the stairway to reach the heavy double doors. "Where do you live?"

"I'm currently renting a small hut in Orgrimmar." 

The chilly night air welcomed us as we stepped out. I was glad the night had already fallen—fewer people on the streets meant more privacy to us. I followed his lead as we walked along the canals, a beautiful jumble of torchlights reflected in the calm waters.

The loud conversations and clinking of glasses leaked through the open door of a tavern as we walked by, and I was suddenly very aware of how much I needed a drink. Perhaps I could invite him to have a drink with me sometime.

"Is it pleasant there, in Orgrimmar? It's been a while since I visited," he stated as we crossed the canal.

"It's much too hot for my taste," I admitted. "But that's where my Warchief needs me."

"You are very loyal to her, aren't you?" 

I paused, glancing at him while choosing the right words for maximum effect without burning any bridges. He was watching me with genuine curiosity, something I did not expect. "I owe her my life."

His eyes widened slightly, surprised at the unexpected answer. "I would like to hear that story if you wish to tell me."

"Maybe one day." I smiled at him, an unvoiced promise lingering in the air between us.

We walked in silence for a while, through an underpass that led to a different part of the city. "Thank you for stopping Greymane yesterday," I said, as we approached another bridge. "I endured because I knew you would show up."

"How did you know?"

We stopped, and I turned to him, placing a hand on his upper arm. "I was certain you would because you're already a better king than he could ever be."

His eyes widened as he opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He broke eye contact first, looking down to hide a smile. Realizing that Anduin was shy about his own happiness made me feel sorry for him. Happiness was so hard to come by in our world, we should celebrate every little thing instead of hiding it. Still, I turned around to admire the city, allowing him a moment to recover gracefully.

"This is a beautiful city," I commented, looking down at the wavy pattern of the fish swimming in the water, and then up to the lit-up clock tower across from us. "Orgrimmar has its charms, but it's not very aesthetically pleasing."

I had never lived in a city like Stormwind. Silvermoon had been full of warm colours and delicate structures. The Undercity was dark and melancholic with its underlying green glow. Orgrimmar was red hot and dry, uninviting for someone who didn't handle heat very well. Stormwind, on the other hand, was sobering and solemn, the blue roofs creating a charming contrast with the snowy rock and pale wood of most buildings. The lovely canals running through the city created a pleasant romantic atmosphere, allowing for sentiments to grow unchecked.

He chuckled quietly, resting his hands on the stone wall. The clock marked ten, and a bell rang once. "I'm glad you like it. I do hope we can spend some time together."

A couple laughed out loud in the pier below, sitting with their legs dangling out and their backs turned to us. The man leaned in for a kiss, and she accepted, wrapping her arms around him.

"Your Majesty, it would be an honour to spend time with you and maybe get to know your people a bit better, if they'll let me."

"They might feel shy, at first," he said, as we kept going. "But I think it's important for the people of Stormwind to see us together and know that you are an ally." He paused, and I glanced at him, noticing he was chewing on his bottom lip, uneasy and perhaps a bit worried before proceeding. "Would you like to take a walk through the city with me tomorrow morning? I would like to show you around."

"I would be delighted to do so, Your Majesty." I smiled widely, prompting him to do the same. He sighed like he had been holding that breath for hours, and then straightened up as if a weight had been lifted off his back.

I briefly wondered if he had been nervous about asking me to spend time with him. Maybe he thought I would be averse to it, after what happened with Greymane? Was he that desperate for peace that he actually thought I would say no? But then I realized that the issue was more profound than that—Anduin Wrynn just needed to feel validated. 

When we turned a corner, the Keep revealed itself, with its multiple towers watching over the city. It was magnificent and overwhelming, and I allowed a small gasp to escape me, as I took in the splendour of the castle.

"It's something, isn't it?" He clasped his hands behind his back, amused by my surprise.

"I've heard tales of the great Stormwind Keep, but I still didn't know what to expect. You've lived here your whole life?"

He nodded. "Most of it, yes."

"Must be lonely."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, I'm assuming a boy who lives in a place like this would probably not have many friends outside his circle. Especially if he's the heir to the throne. My parents were not royalty, but I still had trouble making friends because most of the other kids were afraid of me." We crossed the drawbridge while the guards bowed their heads to the King. "When you are larger than life, it makes others feel really small. People don't like feeling small."

As we climbed the grand stairway, I recognized the tall statue that stood atop the fountain— it was King Varian Wrynn, overlooking the entrance to the Keep. Anduin stayed behind while I walked to the fountain, interlaced hands and bowed head in silent prayer. Then I dipped my fingertips in the cold water and touched my forehead and my heart before making a curtsy to the statue.

"What was that you just did?" he asked, as we climbed the flight of stairs to the right.

"I recognized the face in the statue, and I wanted to say a prayer for him. Your father was a good man."

"And the thing with the water? Is that one of your customs?"

"Something my mother used to do, though I do not know where it comes from. I asked him for guidance and bravery, it seemed appropriate." I shrugged gently, glancing at him. Our eyes crossed paths as we reached the last step. 

"You are an intriguing person, Omellas."


	11. Chapter Ten

# Chapter Ten

The first rays of morning light washed over my face, gently luring me back from slumber. I pulled the soft covers up to my chin, enjoying the rare moments of peace and the comforting weight of the blanket. After getting up, I drew a warm bath and just sat in the big white bathtub, soaking in a sea of scented bubbles for the longest time. 

And obviously, when Anduin knocked on my door, I wasn't ready yet.

"Please, come in, Your Majesty," I said, stepping aside to let him in, hair just towel-dried and still a mess. "I'm almost ready."

"Take your time, there's no rush." He stood in the middle of the room, fidgeting with the hem of his mageweave shirt as I sat by the mirror.

"I'm sorry I overslept. I haven't felt this comfortable in ages," I explained, running an ornate brush through my hair, disentangling it carefully. 

"It's no problem at all, I'm glad to know you are enjoying these accommodations."

I braided a single strand of hair on the right side and let the rest hang loose. It was a plain style, but charming enough to remove the cold-blooded killer look that being a member of the Horde automatically cast upon me when visiting enemy cities.

My skin was still bruised, but I was so used to seeing purple splatters all over my body, it wasn't even something I actively noticed or cared about anymore. Being bruised and sore was almost an intrinsic part of me.

Anduin, on the other hand, did notice.

When I turned around, his eyes scrutinized my face, rolling over the injuries caused by Greymane. Suddenly, his palm was warm against my skin, the thumb moving gently along my cheekbone where the two cuts below my eye still stung like needles. "Sorry," he mumbled when I winced, eyes swimming in bruises and guilt that weren't his to bear. "That's going to scar."

"It's okay," I reassured him, voice as low as the soft rustling of leaves outside the window. "I wear my scars with pride."

His hand dropped to the side, clutching only emptiness and regret. "What did you tell him to make him so angry?"

"There's some previous animosity between us, but the other day I might have crossed a line. I was just so mad at him..." I sat on the bed, eyes on the floor and a mask of remorse covering my face. "I mentioned his son."

"His son?" He sat next to me, blond ponytail swinging as he turned to face me. I could tell he was bracing for trouble by the pulsing vein in his neck and the rigid lines on his jaw. "What did you say?"

"He refused to let me talk to you, said he was the one in charge and…" I hesitated, looking at him through the curve of my eyelashes. "I told him the last time he was in charge of a city he turned his son into a drunk before getting him killed." He inhaled sharply, eyes widened by the bombshell that exploded in my words. "And then I asked if he was planning to do the same with you."

I let the shame flood my eyes and his expression softened, understanding I meant only to show concern instead of causing any real harm. "You shouldn't have said that. But it's still no excuse for what he did to you. I'm sorry I wasn't here, I never meant for this to happen." Wrinkles appeared between us as his anger flowed into his fist, gripping the covers tighter as the seconds ticked away. "I have been travelling, and I came back late that night. I didn’t even know you were here until someone told me what Genn was doing. I can't even imagine what would've happened if-"

"It's not your fault." My hand covered his, fist turning into a mellow grasp as my thumb ran small circles on his white skin. "But now you know the kind of people who surround you and how they rule this city in your absence."

He nodded, though I suspected he wasn't doing it knowingly. "He should've known better."

A shiver ran down my spine. My plan could've gone terribly wrong simply because I refused to listen to Greymane when he told me Anduin wasn't there. I assumed he was lying, that he had been sent to interrogate me. It turns out he had been telling the truth all along. My plan to rely on the King's morals didn't work because of his big, bleeding heart, but because I was incredibly lucky that Anduin appeared when he did. I really had gone too far.

"Well, enough of this pity party. You have an entire city to show me!" I jumped up and grinned, extending my hand towards him like he had done the day before. "I can't go alone, or I'm going to get lost in the first five minutes." He took it with a smile, and we left escorted by two guards, who walked a few paces behind us.

As we roamed the airy corridors of Stormwind Keep, Anduin told me stories about his childhood. How he used to hide behind that big vase in the East Wing when he wanted to get out of his lessons, how he spent hours in the library looking for a secret passage because of an old rumour, how he still had a small scar above his right knee from tripping and falling near the fountain in the garden in a very silly display of clumsiness.

"That window over there is my room," he stated, pointing to a window on the first floor. "And that one over there is yours."

It was interesting to know I could watch him from my room. That would undoubtedly prove useful in the near future.

We turned back towards the throne room, and then out into the city. The first place we visited was the stable. I held on to Wildgaze for several minutes, face buried in his mane, feeling his familiar heartbeat under my hands. The relief I felt knowing he was okay and well cared for made me want to hug Anduin right there, but I contained the urge immediately. Instead, I thanked Karin, the stable master, for her help and promised Wildgaze I'd visit often.

Just like before, Anduin talked non-stop about his city and his people. He spoke as if he had all these words building up inside of him over time and no one to share them with, and now that he had a willing listener they were spilling out all at once. Heinrich Stone from Honest Blades always has the most exotic and beautiful swords and daggers; the Stovers from The Empty Quiver make the best, most reliable bows; Wynne Larson can craft the prettiest dresses in the city, and that's where he got the clothes he gave me when he picked me up from the Stockade. And the tastiest bread? Well, that comes from The Pig and Whistle.

We walked into the tavern, almost empty at that time of the morning, and a young woman came to greet us.

"Good morning, Maegan." He bowed his head to her, and I couldn't help but notice how her eyes sparkled when she looked at him. "Do you have my order?"

"Of course, Your Majesty!" She signalled a broad guy behind the counter, who approached carrying two wicker baskets covered with a checkered cloth.

"It smells divine, as always." Anduin smiled at her, and she was visibly melting inside.

I wondered if I looked that ridiculous when talking to Lady Sylvanas but quickly dismissed the idea. I could never look like that, it was impossib-

"Do you mind taking this one?" He offered me the smallest of the baskets, and the smell of freshly baked bread made my stomach grumble. "Don't peak! It's a surprise."

I followed him back out and into the Dwarven District. People passing by smiled at him or bowed respectfully but looked at me like I had two heads. Nothing I wasn't already expecting. It would probably be equally weird to see living humans hanging out with Lady Sylvanas and parading themselves through the streets of Orgrimmar.

"You're going to love the Cathedral," he beamed. "It's so beautiful and peaceful! You can really _feel_ the Light there."

Never having attuned back to the Sunwell after its restoration, the Light wasn't something I cared much about. Surviving magical addiction on my own after losing everything and everyone was still the hardest thing I had ever done. I wasn't too keen on relying on the Sunwell or the power of the Light again. The risk of having to deal with the pain of magical withdrawal seemed unnecessary to me. Still, he looked so excited about it that I didn't want to trouble him with this information. So I just smiled politely without offering a reply. 

As we reached the Cathedral Square, he gushed about the beautiful services and ceremonies, and how inspired and untroubled he felt every time he stepped inside. A wide smile spread on his lips, and a tiny dimple emerged on his left cheek. He looked sincerely happy.

Suddenly, we were surrounded by a group of kids, all of them calling his name, excited to see him. He laughed with them, ruffling the hair of one of the older boys who was trying (and failing) to control the little ones. 

A red-headed girl, no older than 4, jumped up to take his hand and pulled him away with her. "King Anduin, please come. I have a thing to show you!"

"I have a thing to show you too," he replied, holding up his basket. "I brought you your favourite!"

We walked into the orphanage, and he placed the basket on a table. The Matron promptly gathered the kids to distribute the food, and they cheered as they received a piece of their favourite bread each.

The red-headed girl ran to her bunk and came back with a drawing, offering it to Anduin with a proud grin. "Is this for me?" Anduin inspected the picture as she nodded enthusiastically. "Thank you, Lydia! Your art is getting so much better!"

I took a peek at the drawing out of curiosity and couldn't contain a grin—messy scribbles and colouring outside the lines were some of the best features of that piece, and the only way you could tell it was Anduin was by the big crown sitting on top of a head with long yellow hair. The girl was so delighted by his compliment that she hugged his leg like she wanted to merge with it.

"Everyone, I want you to meet Omellas." He beckoned me to approach, and I smiled at the kids. "She's a friend, so I want you to be nice to her, okay?"

They met his question with a choir of "Yes, King Anduin!", before quickly returning to their previous essential tasks of eating and sharing bread and sweets.

Something tugged on my pants, and I looked down to see a girl sucking on her thumb. "Do you know how to fix pigtails?" 

"Of course," I replied, crouching in front of her. "I used to fix my little sister's pigtails all the time when she was your age." I removed the yellow bands from her cinnamon hair and combed through it with my fingers, before parting it again and tying it off. "There, all done."

"Thank you!" She hugged me around the neck before running off to play with the others.

When I got up again, Anduin was observing me with a smile. "That was adorable."

I grinned. "If you tell anyone, I'll have to hurt you. I have a reputation to maintain!"

"Looks like I have blackmail material now," he replied, chuckling quietly.

We said goodbye to the kids, and he guided me through a path around the Cathedral that led to a lovely little garden with stone benches and a charming gazebo. 

I followed his cue and sat next to him on one of the benches, our backs turned to the Cathedral. "Is it surprise time now?" 

"Open the basket," he replied, almost beaming with anticipation at this thing he prepared.

My stomach grumbled again when I removed the cloth—cherry pie and banana bread, some buttery wheat rolls, a bowl of biscuits and a bottle of freshly-made juice. And everything looked absolutely delicious.

"Oh, you didn't have to, Your Majesty!"

"I haven't had breakfast outside in a long time, so I thought you might want to keep me company."

We shared a piece of cherry pie, cradled by the chirping of birds in the trees and the running water on the fountain behind us. The silence between us never seemed to be awkward. It was almost like being with an old friend with whom you're comfortable enough to just sit without feeling the need to make small-talk and fill empty spaces. 

He picked up a biscuit from the basket and took a bite. "Is your family in Orgrimmar?" 

"Is this because of the comment about my sister?" He nodded in response as I took a sip of the orange juice. "No, they're... not."

"Where are they, then?"

I glanced at him before focusing on the shimmering sunlight in the lake below. "They passed away a long time ago." My hand rested on the stone between us, holding on to the bench to keep me grounded.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I had no idea."

"It's okay," I replied. "A lot of people died to the scourge. My living relatives were all murdered within a week of each other."

He placed his hand over mine and gave it a comforting squeeze, and I felt a sudden soothing feeling spreading through my chest, even though I couldn't see any Light magic flowing through him. "I'm really sorry, Omellas."

“It’s been a long time, I’m fine.”

He shook his head. “I can tell you’re lying. Would you like to talk about it? Maybe it’ll make you feel better.”

I smiled, though it wasn't a happy one. "I guess being the last of our bloodline is something we have in common…"

He didn't reply for a long time. "How old were you when they... When it happened? If you don't mind me asking?"

"I was 15. I was already a Farstrider, like-" 

"A Farstrider?" He turned his whole upper body towards me, eyes wide and head cocked to one side. "So young? Aren't they supposed to be elite rangers?"

"They are."

"You must've been the youngest Farstrider in…"

"Centuries. What does that tell you about me?" I winked at him, feeling very entertained by his shocked look. "In the end, it didn't do me any good, though. I couldn't save anyone."

"You were just a kid. You can't carry that with you."

If only he knew about the nightmares, the random triggers, the extent of the rage and how all of it changed me. If only he knew about all the things I've seen and the people I've killed to get some sort of twisted revenge, all the emotional baggage I haul behind me everywhere I go and all the masks I wear so no one will see any of it.

"You're not much older than I was back then, and you have to rule an entire kingdom. We all have burdens to carry." I took another sip of the orange juice, gulping down my sentimental nonsense with it. "My parents were both remarkable rangers," I continued, trying to hold a lighthearted tone." Actually, for generations as far back as we can remember, all my family members were Farstriders. I was trained in the military arts basically since birth."

"That is impressive."

"The Farstriders- Well, Lady Sylvanas took me in because I showed so much potential. The others did not enjoy having me around, and a lot of them were mad at her for a long time." 

I recalled how Lord Theron protested her decision right in front of me as if I wasn't even there. How he said I wasn't good enough, that she shouldn't encourage me because I would be a waste of time and resources. After all this time, I still resented him for that. 

"You must've been outstanding for her to trust you that much," Anduin observed, still watching me.

"I was," I said, turning to look him in the eyes. "I am."

"Should I be afraid?" He joked and grinned, but I heard the undertone of concern in his voice.

"Only if I'm on the other side of the battlefield, Your Majesty. So let's try to avoid that." I grinned back at him. 

His hair really was golden in the sunlight, his eyes bluer than the clear skies, his voice kinder than any I'd heard before. And his smile was awfully distracting.  
  



	12. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of death

# Chapter Eleven

The stone floor was cold beneath my bare feet as I climbed out of bed. I used to be able to wake up in a second, but the excellent mattress and nice heavy blankets were turning me into a lazy person. Whoever knocked on my door the first time, was knocking again impatiently. 

The guard waking me up at dawn talked with an accent that suggested he was not from Stormwind, and the bags under his eyes were a sign that he had been on the night shift. "His Majesty requires your presence immediately." 

I yawned, glancing at the purplish sky outside. "Wasn't the King supposed to be away on a diplomatic trip or something?"

"Well, he came back now, didn't he? Hurry up, do not keep him waiting!" Despite the urgency of the King's request, the note of restlessness in the voice of this guard indicated he must be near the end of his shift. I made a mental note to investigate shift changes further as I got dressed.

I tried to pry more information out of him while he escorted me to the King, but he didn't say another word. As we entered a wing that was previously forbidden to me, I could only assume I was being summoned to the royal quarters. 

The paintings on the walls followed me with their dead judgmental eyes as I got closer and closer to the two guards at the end of the corridor. One of them knocked on the door, and Anduin's muffled voice responded on the other side.

He too had bags under his eyes, and the air in the room felt heavy with heartache.

"I'm sorry to summon you so early," he started, and I could immediately tell he was not going to address the grim aura hanging all around him. That would not do.

"What happened?"

Anduin opened and closed his mouth twice before speaking. "A dear old friend just passed away," he confessed.

"Oh, I'm really sorry for your loss."

He bit down on his lower lip with watery eyes.

I approached him slowly and opened my arms, inviting him in for a hug. Anduin let out a deep, ragged sigh, with his chin resting on my shoulder. "You don't need to hide your tears from me, Anduin."

His breath hitched with repressed sobs, and I wasn't sure if it was because of the pain he was feeling or because I called him by his first name without the usual honorifics. He refused to cry but held on to me like he had been touch-starved his whole life. I knew about death, and about having no one to hold me in times of need, so I waited for him to be the first to let go, rubbing small circles on his back to soothe his aching heart. 

He cleared his throat and pulled up a chair next to a table full of tomes and handwritten notes. "I've been thinking about something, and I'd like to ask your opinion about it. Sit with me, please," he said, waiting for me to comply before continuing. "I would like to arrange a meeting between humans and their still existing Forsaken family members."

I stared at him for a few seconds, unsure if I'd heard correctly, but my brain was already busy considering all the possible outcomes for this scenario. Admittedly, not all of them were positive. 

"Do you think this is something your Warchief would agree to do?"

"Lady Sylvanas cares a great deal about the Forsaken. She wants only what's best for them."

He pressed the subject, eager for a positive answer. "Wouldn't it be good for them to reconnect with their loved ones?" 

Fidgeting with my nails for a moment, I let out a deep breath. How do you explain to a starry-eyed child dreaming about world peace that living people don't usually like to hang out with the dead?

"I've lived in the Undercity for some time, so I met many Forsaken, as you can imagine. While it is heavily encouraged for them to leave their old lives behind, I'm sure a good number of them would be happy to meet their families and friends again. But I don't think they are the problem in this equation."

"What is the problem, then? Is it Sylvanas?"

I shook my head. "The other races have a hard time accepting the Forsaken. Even within the Horde, some are still averse to their presence. Are you sure your people would want to see their loved ones as they are now?"

He sighed, lowering his head. "That is something I have considered too. We would obviously have to do a thorough screening process before we agree to anything, but I'm sure we can find some people who would want to do this, don't you think?" Anduin looked so hopeful and full of dreams, I almost felt bad for bursting that fantasy bubble he was living in. 

"You know your people better than I do, Your Majesty. Are your advisers aware of this?"

He got up, walking to a cabinet and pulling out two empty glasses. "I called for a meeting this morning, but I have a feeling they will think Sylvanas will use this opportunity to start a war. I'd like you to attend as well, to speak on behalf of the Horde and as someone who knows what it's like to be around Forsaken." He filled the glasses with water and came back, placing one of them in front of me.

"Thank you," I said, grabbing the cup just for something to do with my hands. "I can't speak for Lady Sylvanas, nor do I pretend to know all her plans. What I do know is that neither the Alliance nor the Horde are prepared to start another fight now. Everyone knows that." I took a sip, allowing the words to linger in the air. "Even Sylvanas."

"That's where all my hope lies," he replied, nodding in agreement. "It's not in her best interest to start a war between us now. So do you think she would accept it? A meeting between Forsaken and humans?"

"Perhaps, Your Majesty. Would you like me to suggest it to her?"

"No, not yet. I would appreciate it if you could keep this between us for now. I haven't made up my mind yet, and if I decide to go through with this, I'd like to write to her personally. I want her to hear this from me."

I played with my glass, running my finger around the border. "I think she would appreciate that." 

"Really?"

Knowing it would comfort him, I offered a smile. "She might be harsh and cold sometimes, but she appreciates honesty, and she can respect opposing leaders who are strong and fierce, who fight for their people's sake like she does."

"Thank you for your input on this matter," Anduin replied, nodding gravely. "It will be essential for my final decision."

The sun had risen in the horizon sometime during our talk, and I got up to look out the window. "Death is a funny thing. One minute you're here, and the next you're just… gone." 

"And the world just keeps on going as if nothing happened." Anduin joined me, resting his hands on the sill.

"A second chance at life doesn't seem so bad sometimes."

"Are you talking about…?"

"Being undead. Having a new life, a chance to do better. Sometimes I think it would make me feel good to try again from scratch." I turned around and jumped up to sit on the sill. "But it's never from scratch, is it? Your old pain will still be there when you wake up. You'll just have to keep on living with it in a slightly worse body that almost everyone else will be repulsed by." 

He watched his city slowly come to life, and I watched him. I was aware he had been through some rough times, but he still looked so untainted by all the evil in our world that I wished I didn't know what was coming for him. 

"What was it like, living with them?"

"It was hard gaining their trust and being accepted by them. Lady Sylvanas and I were really close before, but even she didn't trust me at first. It took her years to let me into her life again after the fall of Silvermoon. For a long time, she didn't allow me to live in the Undercity. She never admitted it, but I think she was afraid. Don't tell her I told you this."

He laughed and pretended to lock his lips and throw away the key.

"They have been so hurt by the living," I continued, "that they never really allow themselves to trust us again."

"I recently met a Forsaken priest that changed my mind about them. He's still the same person he was in life, and the Light accepted him. So why shouldn't I, you know?"

The seconds stretched as the sunlight claimed more and more space in the receiving room, chasing the shadows away. I suddenly realised I didn't like the way sadness drew his eyebrows together and pulled the corners of his mouth down. I shuffled closer to him, letting my head rest on his shoulder. He didn't push me away.

"You're going to be fine," I said, severing the familiar silence taking shape around us.

"Do you really believe that?"

"Of course!"

He chuckled. "I can tell you're lying."

I raised my head to frown at him. "How do you do that?"

"It's a secret," he replied, offering me a shy crooked smile.

Just then, there was a knock on the door, and a guard came in to tell us it was time to go downstairs. Before leaving for the council meeting, Anduin finished his glass of water in a single gulp as if it were liquid courage.

The map room was full when we arrived. All of his advisors were there—Greymane, Spymaster Shaw, Velen, Turalyon, Alleria and a woman I remembered from a rather unpleasant encounter in Stormheim, Admiral Rogers. Anduin took his place at the head of the big table in the centre while all the heads turned to watch me. Alleria narrowed her eyes, and Greymane was positively cross.

"What is _she_ doing here?"

"She's here to do her job, Genn," Anduin replied with a stern tone. "I asked her to be present at this meeting to speak for the Horde."

I stood behind Anduin in silence, leaning against the wall while he explained his plan to everyone else. As expected, it was not well received.

The first one to voice her concerns was Rogers, who was vehemently against it. Yet, Spymaster Shaw's reply surprised me.

"His Majesty is right. A short while ago, he asked me to send extra agents to the Undercity. A governing body has sprung up in Sylvanas' absence." He looked around the room, taking everyone in as he spoke. "They call themselves the Desolate Council."

My ears perked up all of a sudden. I'd heard that name before. Nathanos had talked about it with Sylvanas during the victory march in Orgrimmar, and she didn't seem too pleased. Now I understood why—having the Forsaken so desperate for leadership was not great news, especially when they formed a governing body without consulting Sylvanas. How could they possibly think that was a good idea?

"They are dead," Rogers continued. "Worse than dead— _monsters_. How can you possibly imagine I'd want to see them as they are now?" There was so much contempt in her voice like she was spitting out words coated in venom just to poison whoever was near enough to hear them.

"Remember, Sky Admiral, you are speaking to your king." Anduin remained calm while he scolded her, but her face turned whiter than the Keep walls, and she bowed as she apologised.

Without any surprises, Greymane agreed with her. "They are monsters," he parroted, voice little more than a growl. "If we care at all for our Forsaken relatives, we should be trying to give them true deaths, not embrace what they've become."

I glanced at Anduin, who seemed more and more hunched over with the weight of their contempt. How could he remain so calm listening to these disrespectful views, when all I wanted was to slap some sense into them?

"Reunions can often be disappointing." Alleria's voice brought me back to the meeting, an alarming shudder running through my spine. "You may not know, but recently Vereesa and I met with Sylvanas. It did not go well. We met only to see what was left of our family ties. I will tell you more if you wish. But suffice to say that I would not put my faith in her, Anduin Wrynn. She has been too long in the darkness, and it has eaten away what is left of the sister I loved so dearly."

Rage boiled in my veins at the audacity of that woman, and I had to bite my tongue not to explode. I could hear Turalyon and Greymane talking about war, but it was only fuzzy background noise. I couldn't quite focus anymore. Not after what Alleria had said.

"In no scenario does open warfare work to either the advantage of the Horde or that of the Alliance." Anduin seemed frustrated but was clearly trying hard to remain calm. 

"That we know of," Alleria replied. "And there is much none of us knows about Sylvanas and how she thinks."

I couldn't keep quiet anymore, and the words just started pouring out of me. "I know how she thinks."

Alleria scowled at me. "How could you possibly know?"

"I know because I didn't turn my back on her like you did!" I walked towards the centre table, registering in the back of my brain that Anduin scrambled to get out of the way as if he was worried I'd run him over, so lost I was in my rage. "I didn't shun her for being the victim of a heinous crime! I stayed, and I fought for her! I fought by her side, I held her in my arms when she was broken and then I saw her die _again_. And I have to live with it every day because I couldn't stop it! You stand there, and you talk about her darkness as if you didn't pile onto it with your self-righteousness and intolerance!"

She recoiled slightly when I jabbed a finger in her direction, but I was done with her. My words were now for everyone in that room. "You talk about the Forsaken without a hint of knowledge as to who they are or what they've been through."

Alleria didn't respond, but next to her, Turalyon seemed offended by my words. "Have some resp-"

"I am talking now!" I interrupted him without care, looking at everyone in the eye one by one. "The Forsaken are people like you and me. They didn't ask to be the way they are! They are just doing their best to survive. Isn't that what we all do every day?"

If looks could kill, Greymane would've murdered me a thousand times over, given the intensity of his stare. I didn't care. The amount of hypocrisy around that table was astonishing, and someone had to call them out.

"The Forsaken are not the scourge. They are not monsters. I'd wager there are more monsters in this room than in the entirety of the Undercity."

Then I pointed at Greymane, Alleria, Turalyon and Rogers individually. "You are a heartless racist. You turned your back on your own sister when she needed you the most. You're trying to pull your puppet strings by being judgmental about matters you know nothing about. And you ignored the direct orders of your King and attacked us!"

"How do you know about that?" Anduin's voice behind me made me turn around to face him.

"I know lots of things, Your Majesty. I know that there's a whole lot of bad blood between us, and I know that some of the people in this room are not so keen on keeping the peace."

I turned towards his advisors again, breathing deeply. "I know we all suffered at the hands of the Lich King and his scourge army. I lost everything. My home, my people! It's been thirteen years, and after all this time, I still see them coming after me when I close my eyes." My voice wavered with all of these feelings burning their way out of my chest. It was all I could do to hold myself together and not break down in front of them. "I lost my entire family! I still see my little sister's dead eyes staring at me while I plunged my knife into her heart." I slammed my hand on the table, and the hanging candelabra above us highlighted several white half-moon teeth patterns on my forearm, faded by time but never completely gone. "I still bear the scars!"

The room was so completely silent, I could hear my own heartbeat drumming in my ears. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself, blinking away the sting of tears. "But I have enough brains to realise the Forsaken are not the scourge. They are broken, they have been hurt more than any of us can even imagine! But they are still good people. This gathering might never even take place, but it's time for all of you to stop being so bigoted and arrogant." 

Turning to Anduin again, I realised he was almost on the verge of tears. "I have no doubt that the Forsaken would love to meet their living relatives and friends. But can you honestly say the same for your people? Can you really guarantee the safety of _my_ people?"

I returned to my previous dark corner with a sigh, wishing I had a hood to pull over my head. Never in a million years would I have imagined I'd make myself so vulnerable in front of all the Alliance leaders, and yet, there we were. The shame of not being able to control my feelings made my cheeks feel hot, and I couldn't wait for the Council meeting to be over so I could run away and hide somewhere.

Greymane tried to protest some more, even using the death of Anduin's friend to sway opinions against him—an action so despicable that made me feel physically nauseous.

"You're doing this for him, and I understand why you want to. But you can't put innocent lives at risk just to make yourself feel better."

Finally, Anduin seemed to have heard enough. He placed his hands on the map table and leaned forward, adopting such a self-assured attitude that no one dared to question him any more. "If Sylvanas responds with terms that are acceptable to me—terms that I believe will adequately protect the Stormwind citizens—this meeting will take place. I expect all of you to accept that and turn your attention to following my orders to ensure that everything goes according to plan. Do I make myself clear?" 

I didn't want to look at them or be near them anymore, so I waited until everyone left before moving. Yet, Anduin grabbed my hand when I walked past him.

"Will you stay with me a bit longer? You're the only one who seems to understand."

His voice was low, barely louder than a whisper. But I stayed. It seemed that being harsh with his advisers had seeped all the energy out of him.

"Did you get any sleep at all, Your Majesty?"

He shook his head. "I kept Wyll company all night until…" Anduin trailed off, looking down at the large map spread out on the table. "And then I just… I'm so tired."

"You need to get some sleep." Our fingers intertwined as I held his hand tight, trying to melt away his anxiety and his fears—just like Sylvanas used to do with me when I was younger. 

Anduin shook his head again, like a stubborn toddler. "I don't want to go to my room. There are too many memories there."

"Then come to mine." I pulled him gently behind me so we could make our way back into the throne room, and he didn't show any resistance. "I'll stay with you to keep the nightmares away." 

"Who says I have nightmares?"

"Oh, everyone has nightmares, _little lion_."

  
  



	13. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of death, alcohol

# Chapter Twelve

We settled in my bed, with his head resting on my lap and my fingers running through his silky hair. Anduin didn't smell of peaceblooms that day, and I was grateful for it. Instead, there was something woody and sweet—he smelled of pine trees and wild forest, and that sudden urge to get on a horse and ride so fast you feel like you're flying.

It had been hell to fall asleep on my own whenever death hung in the air. I remembered wanting to be held, wanting to cry into someone's shoulder, and the emptiness of having no one instead. I asked him to trust me when he voiced his concern about how inappropriate this situation was for a King. 

"You need to rest, and you shouldn't have to be alone today," I told him. Soon his breathing became deeper and steadier, as he fell further into his dreams. He must've been exhausted. 

I wondered what the High King of the Alliance dreamt about. Wondered if he also saw his loved ones in his dreams or the people he failed throughout his life. Or maybe there was just the weight of all the responsibility on his shoulders, of all the people counting on him to always know what's best and always do the right thing, and the threat of war always looming on the horizon.

From time to time, he became slightly agitated, letting out little whimpers, like a child trying to run away from their bad dreams. I discovered he would calm down with soothing scratches on the back of his neck and hushed words of comfort. All he needed, after all, was someone to take care of him for a change.

His steady breathing and body warmth made my eyelids heavy, pulling me down into slumber territory with him. I never realised I fell asleep until I woke up with him sitting up and rubbing his eyes. 

"You fell asleep too?"

Sleeping in a sitting position had made my neck sore, so I massaged it gently to ease the muscles. "I heard people sleep better when they're next to someone who is also asleep, so I was only looking out for you, really."

"I have to admit," he said, a slight blush tinting his cheeks, "it was the best nap I've had in years."

I grinned in response. "You're welcome, Your Majesty."

"I think we're past the stage where you need to keep calling me Your Majesty, don't you think? Just call me Anduin." He sighed, a melancholic smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "You've been nothing but great to me. I don't know how to repay that."

"I know you guys think all Horde people are hideous bloodthirsty beasts, but some of us are actually awesome, you know?"

Anduin giggled at my joke, reaching up to take off the blue band that kept his hair in a tail, and letting his blond locks fall free over his shoulders. Somehow, something stirred unexpectedly in my chest, and I didn't know why. Then he ruffled it, combed through the strands with his fingers, and gathered it all in one hand. When he picked up the hair tie again, I touched his arm to stop him.

"Leave it down. It looks good."

He eyed me suspiciously but lowered his arms. "Genn keeps telling me I should cut it shorter."

"Who are you going to believe? The old man with the raggedy beard or the pretty sin’dorei with a great sense of style?"

Anduin crossed his arms, lifting an eyebrow. "Oh, so you think you're pretty?"

"I'll have you know," I started, pulling a pillow into my lap and crossing my legs, "no less than three people have told me I'm pretty in the past, so I'm inclined to believe them."

"Three people?" He faked a shocked gasp. "Wow, that's a crowd!"

I hit him with the pillow, making him laugh out loud.

"Mean boy…"

He kept fidgeting with his hair, pulling it to one side, and then the other, running his fingers through his bangs and pulling everything back. "I feel self-conscious wearing my hair like this."

"Would it help if I let my hair loose too in solidarity?"

He nodded with a shy smile as I untied the ribbon that kept my braid in place. Taking advantage of the fact that he was watching me, I made a little show of combing it out and then parting it on one side.

"There, happy?"

He nodded again in silence, suddenly avoiding eye contact, the rosy tint back on his cheeks. But then his eyes were flooded with sadness, as the pangs of a new wave of emotional pain washed up on his shores.

"Wyll would've loved you," he mumbled.

"I'm sorry I didn't get to meet him. He really meant a lot to you, didn't he?"

"He's been with me my entire life, he's-" Anduin interrupted himself, gritting his teeth and blinking back the tears. "He was my best friend." He paused for a while, searching within to find the strength to continue. “How do you do it? How do you cope with death?"

"After I lost my family, I survived only for revenge. That's what kept me going. And when I saw Arthas fall down dead on that frozen plateau, I just wept."

My story seemed to have distracted him from his own grief, if only for a moment. "You were there?

"I was. And after years of holding everything back because I had a job to do, I finally let myself feel. I felt everything at once. All the hopelessness of my life after that, all the unresolved grief and burning anger and all the love I still had for those I lost, I felt it all. And I hated it. I was so used to pretending I didn't feel anything at all, that when I actually let myself feel something, I was too overwhelmed and got scared." I shook my head, hugging my knees to my chest. "I immediately went back to pretending I couldn't feel a thing. Now I'm like a slate that's been written on and wiped clean too many times. The writing fades but never really disappears and everything just kind of smudges together. You can't always see it, but it's there, waiting for an opportunity to come out and bite me in the ass."

"How so?"

"When you approached me in the cell the other day, I flinched, and you thought I was scared of you. Do you remember?” He nodded in response, and I gulped down the emotions, leaving only the words like an afterthought so they wouldn’t hurt as bad. “Your jacket smelled of peaceblooms. That scent always reminds me of my mother. And for a second in that cell, the writing wasn't faded anymore, it was too visible and too real, and it was ripping my heart out." 

Anduin was listening intently, but I could see the shadows of his anguish aching right behind that mask he was trying to wear. 

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that… I just push everything down and hide it away, and you shouldn't follow my example. I don't know any better, but it's not too late for you." I scooched over to him, wrapping my arm around his back to comfort him. "You don't have to be this stoic man made of stone and steel all the time. Losing the people you love hurts more than any physical wound. It's okay to feel this pain as deeply as it needs to be felt."

He covered his face with both hands like he was waiting for permission to do so, tears rending his composed royal persona to shreds. I held him close as he allowed himself to mourn freely and kissed his hair when he leaned into me for some sort of solace.

Sylvanas taught me that feelings are for the weak, and I had immediately been on board with that. I didn't want to feel anything, anyway.

As the King of Stormwind cried in my arms, torn apart by his own emotions, he showed his most vulnerable side. At that moment, he was more vulnerable than he would ever be on a battlefield. And yet, I couldn't even imagine having to use his pain to hurt him even more, as I had been ordered to do. All I wanted was to make him feel better and to heal him because no one had done that for me. I had turned into a ghost of what I could've been to overcome loss and grief, and I hated the idea of watching it happen to Anduin. He was so good, so much better for this world than I had ever been. He deserved more than to be broken by the people he trusted.

Sylvanas was right. Feelings made me weak.

Suddenly, his pain bothered me as if it were something dirty on the floor, something I had to clean and remove from sight. I couldn't listen to his sobs anymore, not without wanting to run away and hide so I could find my icy resolve again.

"My mission today is to make you feel better," I told him. "Is that okay with you?" He nodded as a response, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "Do you have any royal duties this afternoon?"

He took a few deep breaths to regain composure. "No, I wasn't even supposed to be in Stormwind today. Why?"

"Because I am a genius," I replied, getting up and walking towards the door, "and I just had a great idea. Prepare to be amazed."

I opened it all of a sudden, startling the guard stationed outside. "Hi. His Majesty would like lunch for two served in this room, a few of the tallest chairs you can find and all the pillows and blankets you can carry. And bring some snacks as well. Thank you."

When I closed the door, I turned to Anduin and bowed very dramatically, earning a small smile from him.

"You're the best."

"Of course I am," I grinned. "That's why Lady Sylvanas asked  _ me _ to come. I'm just that great!"

"Speaking of which," he started, crossing his legs beneath him. "I'm not sure if you're aware, but for a while, I traded letters with one of your leaders."

"Bloodhoof. Yes, I know." I sat next to him, close enough that our legs were touching.

"The last letter I received was meant to sever that connection. Do you know if the order came from your Warchief?"

"It did."

"Is Baine okay?"

I shrugged. "As far as I know, he's fine."

"So Sylvanas Windrunner finds out that one of her people is communicating with me and does nothing?"

"Well, he did sever the connection, didn't he? And then she sent me to make up for it. Ships can't have any leaks, or they'll end up sinking. Sylvanas doesn't trust Baine, but she does trust me."

Anduin let his upper body fall onto the bed behind him. "And then we attacked the person she sent."

"Stop beating yourself up for that. I don't blame you, and neither should you."

He sighed and propped himself up on his elbow. "I'm hoping Sylvanas will not take you away because of that. I know we've just met, but I enjoy having you here."

I laid down on my back next to him, staring at the intricate golden pattern on the ceiling. "I'm not going to tell her."

"Why not?"

"It's just not relevant." I could see from the corner of my eyes that he was staring at me, but I chose to keep my focus elsewhere. "She warned me that this could happen, so I was already counting on it when I accepted the job."

"And you still came here, knowing that?"

I turned my head, noticing for the first time how close he was. "How else would I get to know the best king Stormwind has ever seen?"

He pushed my shoulder lightly, making me giggle. "Stop it, I'm serious."

"I've known nothing but war and death since I was fifteen. I'd like to live a different life, if only for a while. Peace is worth the effort." I looked up at him, at the amount of hope written all over his face. Hope was better than pain. "And honestly, I'm really enjoying your company too."

He hovered over me with a small smile growing on his lips, the rosier shade back on his cheeks, and my heartbeat was somehow too fast for someone who was just lying down.

"I think the occasion calls for a special treat." I cleared my throat as I got up, walking to my backpack to pull out a bottle of Dalaran Red. "Are you old enough to drink?"

"I've been a legal adult for over a year now, but Stormwind does not have age restrictions when it comes to drinking alcoholic beverages."

"Great!" I popped the cork on the bottle and grabbed two glasses from a small cabinet on the wall. "I think we're going to have a great afternoon."

When the guards came back, we spread the blankets and pillows all over the floor. We removed the sheets from the bed and threw them over the chairs to make a cosy blanket fort, where we had lunch while he told me more stories about Stormwind and his life.

We drank as I told him about the parties we threw in Silvermoon and how I used to sneak out at night as a kid because I wasn't allowed to attend. 

"Do you also have a little choreography that everyone knows and it's unofficially mandatory at every gathering?"

I refilled my glass, putting away the empty bottle. "No, but apparently we're missing out," I giggled.

"Get up, I will teach you."

"No way, I can't dance to save my life."

"It's easy!" He extended an inviting hand, gesturing for me to take it. "I promise you'll like it."

I took his hand, and soon he was teaching me the steps that everyone in Stormwind was supposed to be familiar with. He repeated the moves patiently until I memorised the basics and explained how to coordinate with other people. His speech was slightly slurred by the wine, and the corners of my vision were foggy. Still, everything was uncomplicated and charming, and we were having more fun than I'd had in a long time.

Anduin stood in front of me as we counted steps left and right, holding my hand while I spun in place and then grabbing my waist and pulling me towards him, all the while giggling at my clumsy feet and awkward moves. He hummed an upbeat tune while we danced, my brain swooning a bit from the alcohol in my system and all the twirling and all the touching.

By the end we were just holding each other, taking tiny steps from side to side to a song only we could hear, the whole choreography completely put aside and forgotten. My head rested on the curve of his neck, his hasty heartbeat drumming in my ears. Or was it  _ my _ heartbeat?

"Can you believe it was Wyll who taught me how to dance?" 

"Really?" 

He nodded. "You never know when you'll be dancing with the future Queen, so you need to be prepared." Anduin chuckled quietly at the memory. "That's what he used to tell me every time I complained."

"Sounds like he was a sensible man."

"He taught me how to read too, and he always made sure I attended my lessons." He let out a longing sigh. "You know, my advisors are pressuring me into finding a Queen soon, and I think Wyll would have approved of you." My head shot up as he realised what he had said. "No, that's- that's not what I meant! I meant he would've wanted me to find someone  _ like _ you. You know, caring and understanding and… Ugh, that didn't sound so bad in my head."

I giggled, feeling like this loaded conversation had the potential to go very wrong if we hadn't drunk an entire bottle of wine. "It's okay, I got the point." I placed both of my arms around his neck, and his free hand joined the other one at my waist. "So there's no Queen yet, huh?" 

"I don't want a political marriage. I want to marry someone I love, and who loves me back."

"Is there no one in your life that fits the criteria?"

Our eyes locked for a moment, and he tilted his head to one side. "I'm not sure." He paused before letting go of me. "We need more wine," he mumbled, before opening the door to give instructions to his guards.

When he came back, he sat on the edge of the bed. "What about you? Is there someone like that in your life?"

"No, there's not." As soon as I answered, he raised an eyebrow in that specific way that meant he had caught me in a lie. "No, don't look at me like that. It's not a lie. I admit I might have some feelings for a certain person, but it's very complicated, and it will never go anywhere, so it doesn't count."

"Is it her? Sylvanas?"

"Listen," I started, sitting on the bed and turning towards him, "I am going to lie to you now, and your answer can't be 'I know you're lying', okay?"

He chuckled, but I just looked down at my hands to focus on something else. "It's nothing really. I'm just too used to being around her, that's all."

When the guard knocked on the door, Anduin came back with a bottle of Silvermoon Port. He refilled our glasses and gestured towards our blanket fort. "Do you think you could ever love someone else?"

I went back into our makeshift tent and sat next to him, gladly accepting the glass he offered me. "Who said I love her?"

"Your heart."

"Oh, how poetic." 

We sipped on our drinks in silence for a while, just enjoying each other's company surrounded by feather pillows and warm blankets. But when I thought the previous topic had been forgotten, he turned to me and pressed a bit further.

"You didn't answer. Could you love someone else?"

"Maybe.” I grabbed one of the blankets to cover my legs and he pulled it over his own as well. “Yes, perhaps in the future. Who knows?"

"What about right now? Is there enough space in your heart for someone else now?"

There was an unusual gleam in his eyes that made me raise my hand and caress his face. Or perhaps I just had too much to drink and was no longer thinking clearly. Either way, it was comforting not being alone for once. "There's always space for someone special, Anduin."

Yes, hope was definitely better than pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a nightmare to write. I did not plan to end the previous chapter the way I did, so this chapter was never meant to happen. I wrote two other versions of it before getting here, and then I triggered myself writing this version so I guess that's a lesson I've learned.   
> *  
> I made a few minor changes to the previous chapter. I just added a couple of details I felt were missing because it had been bothering me since I published it. No need to go back and re-read it, my perfectionist ass just couldn't leave it alone...


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't be discouraged by all the hetero lately. There's plenty of good gay things coming in the future!

# Chapter Thirteen

The funeral was a beautiful ceremony in the Cathedral, with the morning sun glowing through the stained glass and breaking the morose spirits with a spectacle of colours. It was followed by a small procession, where Anduin helped carry the casket to the cemetery. I watched from the back as he gave a moving speech before Wyll Benton was lowered to the bottom of his grave.

I was hoping to be able to talk to Anduin, if only just to offer comforting words, but Greymane and Shaw stayed behind with him as the crowd dispersed, changing my mind about it. The last thing he needed was for Greymane to make a scene at Wyll's funeral, and I had a feeling the worgen wouldn't approve of my presence there. 

The cemetery was a peaceful place, nestled between the tall city walls and Stormwind Lake. Distracted reading the text on random gravestones, I ended up on the far corner of the cemetery where two massive lion statues guarded a single grave, beautifully decorated with flower wreaths and a trellis full of vibrant vines and climbing roses. There was a golden plaque with some engraved text, and I approached to read it.

_ Tiffin Ellerian Wrynn _

_ Queen of Stormwind _

"That's my mother."

Anduin's honey voice made me turn around all of a sudden, surprised that he managed to catch me off guard. 

His eyes looked past me towards the memorial, emanating a sense of duty and responsibility.

"I'm sorry I didn't bring any flowers," I started, walking to stand beside him. "I did not know."

He approached the grave in silence, hands in front of his chest glowing a warm yellow as he conjured a rose made of light that he placed beneath the plaque. Then he backed away murmuring a prayer as we stood side by side. 

"She passed away when I was a baby, I have no memories of her. My father didn't talk about her much." He sighed, raising his eyes towards the clouds in the sky. "Everything I know, I learned from the servants and other people." 

None of us talked for a while. My hand found his, and he accepted, holding it tightly. I thought of my own mother and father, and how I had been lucky enough to live with both of them long enough to create lasting memories, even if they had become painful throughout the years. "Do you think they're out there, somewhere, watching over us?"

"That is a very comforting thought." He paused before continuing in a darker tone. "Sometimes I'm glad my mother is not here to see the ugliness of this world. I like to think she's gone to a better place." He sighed again, more profound this time as if he was bracing for something. He lowered his gaze to the ground as he randomly kicked the dirt in the path with the tip of his shoe. "Against the advice of my people, I gave orders for your weapons to be returned to you."

"Thank you, Anduin. That's…" My weapons had been confiscated on arrival, and I was fully prepared to not have them back until the day I was ordered to leave. The fact that he was giving them back was a tremendous show of trust and how much progress we'd made these past few days. "Do you really trust me that much?"

"I do," he replied, letting go of my hand and turning to me. "I don't fully understand why, but I do trust you. I'm making a lot of people mad by doing that."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to put a strain on your relationship with your advisers." The pang of guilt I felt was genuine, and it surprised me.

Anduin had a unique way of bringing out the best in me, pulling out a lot of emotions I didn't fully understand. I had spent years pretending that side of me wasn't there or that it didn't exist at all. And yet, Anduin managed to retrieve it with ease from the deepest corners of my being.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I noticed he was making me fail my mission. But at the same time, I couldn't acknowledge it without tipping off whatever warding spells Anduin had on him to always know the truth about everything.

"They're just being overzealous,” he said. “Don't concern yourself with that." 

When he turned around to leave, I reached out to touch his arm. "Is everything alright?"

He nodded affirmatively but didn't seem to believe it himself. "I'll be writing a letter to your Warchief today. I hope you don't get in any trouble for not telling her first."

"Don't worry, I can handle her." I squeezed his wrist reassuringly before letting go.

Both Shaw and Greymane were waiting for him at the end of the path, watching us, probably making sure I wouldn't steal away their boy. As he walked away, standing tall in his ceremonial garbs with the sunshine in his hair, somehow he didn't seem like just a boy anymore.

*

The weapons I had brought with me—my bow and sword—waited for me in my room, resting on the bed along with the clothes I had changed out of before leaving the cell. They had been washed and folded neatly with a red rose laying on top of them. 

I ran my finger through the white blade of my sword, admiring the green gem on the hilt. I hadn't felt the need to use fel crystals since I'd been severely wounded at the Broken Shore. Meditation every night was usually enough to keep the symptoms of withdrawal at bay. However, I still kept a couple with me just in case—the one on my sword was only for absolute emergencies. 

As the moon rose in the clear sky, my fingers itched for a bit of sword practice. I picked it up and left the room, closely followed by the guard who was stationed outside. They followed me everywhere without a word, like spirits who are unable to move on into the beyond.

I went directly to the inner garden with the fountain, which was one of my favourite places in the Keep. On the far corner of the building, Anduin's light was still on. 

I stood by the fountain, brandishing Ashal'zaram at the wind, practising the moves like I had done so many times with the Farstriders. The weight and feel of the sword was so familiar in my hand, it was like an extension of myself. 

As I whirled around to lunge forward, my ears twitched as they picked up the faint sound of footsteps behind me. They were soft and light, the footsteps of a Farstrider. They were so delicate, only another Farstrider would be able to detect them purely on familiarity alone. I stopped moving and straightened my back, gripping the hilt tighter without turning around.

"Hello, Alleria. Have you come to kill me?"

"I could ask you the same."

I moved Ashal'zaram from one hand to the other as I turned to face her. "Oh, I wish my orders were that exciting."

She wore a full set of green and gold armour and had a bow strapped to her back. She came ready for a fight, but, if it came to that, I would not strike first. 

"So, you're my sister's pet," she noted, electric blue eyes looking me up and down with a sense of superiority.

"Why do people keep saying that as if it's offensive? She takes great care of her pets, you know?"

Alleria took a step forward, coming out of the shadows and into the moonlight for the first time. "I know my sister. She does not care about you, and she cares even less about peace. What is your purpose here?"

"Your sister cares about the Horde. You know she's a strategic thinker. Have you considered the possibility that going to war right now is the worst possible strategy for us?" Being so close to her, I noticed that she was slightly shorter than Sylvanas, despite being the eldest sister. "All you Alliance scum could fall into a hole and perish, for all I care, but peace definitely benefits the Horde for the time being. If you guys can't see that, it just proves how rotten you all are."

I turned my back on her, straining to hear any sign of danger and keeping my sword unsheathed. I sat down by the fountain, glancing up at Anduin's room again. I did not wish him to see this confrontation—he had enough issues to deal with already. 

"How close are you with my sister?"

Was Alleria trying to fish out information or was she just curious about her sister's allies? Either way, it all sounded one and the same to me, and I knew she didn't come to have a friendly, pleasant conversation.

"I'm close enough to know that Vereesa is the weakest of you three," I replied, revelling in her intensifying frown. "Close enough to know that you did not deserve to get out of Windrunner Spire alive."

Alleria's jaw tightened. "Is that something she told you?"

"She did not need to tell me anything. It's amazing what you can read in her eyes if you're paying attention."

"You think you know her, but she's merely using you." Alleria's patronizing tone failed to conceal her frustration as if my allegiance to Sylvanas was a personal attack on her. "That's what she does with everyone until they lose value. Then she discards them like garbage."

"I'm familiar with her methods, and I serve her of my own free will," I retorted, placing the sword on my lap and running my fingers through the edge of the sharp blade.

Her fists tightened, undoubtedly itching to grab the bow on her back. "Then you are no better than Sylvanas, and I should end you right here." 

"You know what, Alleria?" I did not wish for the conversation to escalate into a full-blown conflict. Still, her pretentiousness was pushing all my buttons. "I'm going to take that as a compliment."

"The sister I knew is gone. She is lost, she is an abomination! Why would you want to be like her?"

"You are quick to judge other people, and yet you fail to see the faults in yourself. Alleria, look at what you've become!" I stood up to look her straight in the eyes, unable to contain myself. Somehow, her words hit a place deeper within me than Greymane could ever reach. "Your sister did not have a choice in becoming who she is now, but you did! You call her an abomination, you say she is using me, but you're just a slave to the void, and you know it. You think you have it under control, but it's just a matter of time until the void consumes you whole."

She pulled the bow and an arrow from her back in one swift motion, pointing it at me. "You know nothing of me!"

I stepped forward until the tip of the arrow was pressing into my chest. Unlike her, I was not wearing any protective armour. Yet, I was not afraid. "What are the voices whispering about me, Alleria? That I'm not to be trusted? That I should be dead? Go ahead and do it then!" 

Her jaw was so tense it could've cut through diamonds as her eyes flickered from the arrow to my face, trying to figure out the catch. "I risked my life to rescue you once, in Niskara, did you know? Your baby sister personally asked for my help."

Alleria’s eyebrow shot up with curiosity and scepticism, reducing the strain on the bowstring ever so slightly. "That was you?"

"We lost one of her rangers because apparently Vereesa is incapable of controlling her people, and I ended up having to rescue her too in the end." I scoffed, taking a small step back. "She really is incompetent, that one."

Alleria’s leather gloves crackled as she tightened her hand around the bow. "How dare you?"

"That's two out of three Windrunner sisters who owe their lives to me." I twirled the sword by my side, one of my favourite ways to tell my enemies I'm ready for anything they throw my way. "I wonder if I'll ever have the complete collection."

She raised her left arm a couple of inches, just enough to be aiming her arrow at my throat instead. "I will never owe you anything." 

"You can stop the act now, Alleria. We both know you're not going to kill me tonight."

"You shouldn't be so sure."

The clouds above us moved away and made space for the moonlight to shine on the small inner garden, lighting up her stringent features. She had never been as intelligent or beautiful as Sylvanas, but would she ever have the guts to do what needed to be done?

"If you were really going to kill me, you would've done it already." 

Her nostrils flared, frown lines deepening with the realization that I was right. 

"By the way, I found your old bow," I told her, allowing a teasing smile to shine through.

"Thas'dorah? Do you still have it?"

"I gave it to Sylvanas. It's a Windrunner family heirloom after all. I thought it should stay in the family, with someone worthy."

I recalled placing it at her feet after the disastrous rescue mission commissioned by Vereesa. I knew the beautiful Thas'dorah rested in a secure vault deep in the Undercity, but I was not going to volunteer that information. I did not want the eldest Windrunner sister poking around my old home for her lost weapon.

Surprisingly, Alleria lowered her bow, though her expression was still murderous. "That was... kind of you."

"Don't look so surprised, I am a delightful person!"

Her eyes flicked to my sword, a shadow of recognition flashing behind the hate for a second. "You wield a Farstrider weapon. After all this time?"

"What can I say? I'm sentimental."

Her ears jerked up as we both heard approaching footsteps, coming from the corridor that would lead to the royal quarters, but neither of us broke eye contact.

"I see my sister has trained you well in all things, including how to sound like a copy of her."

"Yes, she has," I replied. "I'm her best student."

"I will be watching you like a hawk." She lowered her voice, not wanting to be overheard by anyone else. "One step out of line and your life will be forfeit."

"Is there a problem here?" Anduin was out of breath but tried to hide it behind his usual calm and collected mask.

"Not at all, Anduin. Alleria and I were just having a friendly chat, isn't that right?"

Alleria strapped her bow to her back again and turned to him with a short curtsy. "Have a good night, Your Majesty."

Anduin and I watched her leave without another word. I secured Ashal'zaram in its sheath, glancing up at his room again. There was now a lit candle by the window.

"What was that all about? And don't say it was nothing, I saw you two from my room."

"My allegiance to Sylvanas is a very controversial topic, I'm afraid."

"She looked about ready to kill you. That's the second fight I had to stop since you arrived, Omellas." He ran a hand through his hair, chuckling quietly. "You're great at making friends, I see."

"We were not fighting, Anduin. We were talking about family issues."

"Why was your weapon unsheathed then?"

"She interrupted my practice session," I shrugged, giving him my most innocent smile.

He tilted his head to one side, watching me with a look of fake suspicion to hide his amusement. "Walk with me, I have something to show you."

I followed him through the empty corridors of the Keep and down a flight of stairs until we reached two majestic double doors. When he pushed them open, a vast training room stood on the other side, dusty and lonely, begging for attention. There were racks across the walls with different kinds of weapons and old dummies made of burlap for target practice, and I could barely contain a squeal of excitement.

"This is where I learned how to fight," he explained, gesturing to encompass the entire room. "Sometimes I still come here, but this room is too big just for me. No one else uses it." 

"Can I use this to practice while I'm here?"

"Humm... Only if you show me how good you really are."

I smirked at him, ready to put on a good show. "How good are you with a bow?"

"I used to be pretty good growing up, but I haven't really practised much lately." He scratched the back of his neck, lost in thought. "My father expected me to learn how to properly wield a sword instead."

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," I said, gesturing towards the bow rack.

He picked a simple longbow, while I chose a recurve with a base design similar to my own Death Wish. I steered towards one of the dummies and hit it straight in the heart without hesitation. Anduin aimed for the same one and hit the head. Then I aimed again, releasing an arrow that hit Anduin's previous one, splinters flying everywhere as it broke in half.

"That's a cool trick!"

"Oh, you haven't seen anything yet. Come here, cover my eyes."

Anduin stood behind me, covering my eyes with his hands. I aimed just like I did before, relying on muscle memory and instinct. Anduin's gasp told me I had hit my target. He released his hands, showing me that I had managed to split my first arrow in half as well.

As I turned to grin at him, the sound of the arrows moving around in the quiver on my back gave me an idea—that quiver had not been enchanted to keep the arrows from slipping out, which would do for a fabulous stunt.

I gave him a surprise kiss on the cheek before sprinting away, running towards the right wall. I grabbed three arrows as I jumped, angling my body just enough to be able to run on the wall for a couple of seconds, firing at the dummies on the opposite side of the room in quick succession. Then I vaulted over a pile of boxes, shooting two other arrows that hit the middle circle of the round targets at the back. I climbed one of the columns in the middle of the room, leaping to one of the wooden beams near the ceiling.

I crouched, ready to spring at any second. "Anduin, shoot me!" 

"What?"

"I'm going to jump, and I want you to shoot at me. Trust me!"

"I'm not shooting at you!"

"Didn't you want to see how good I am? I was trained by Sylvanas Windrunner! Now trust me, and shoot a damn arrow at me, okay?"

He didn't seem too convinced but aimed his bow anyway. I jumped, tucking in my legs to roll once, mere inches away from the ceiling. Then on the way down, the arrows in my quiver started slipping out as predicted. I caught them mid-air as I heard the soft twang of Anduin's bowstring. All my hunter instincts kicked in with the arrow approaching at high-speed. I aimed at it and released, angling my body towards the dummy at the centre, another arrow already in place ready to fire. I didn't need to look to know Anduin's arrow had been knocked out of the way by my own. I never failed. Just like I didn't fail to hit the dummy where the right eye would've been before my feet touched the ground again. I rolled onto my shoulder to soften the landing, all the way to one knee and using the momentum to get up.

"Kneel and brace," I instructed, sprinting towards Anduin.

This time he didn't question me. He placed one knee on the ground, tucking in his head for protection. I climbed from his leg to his shoulder, leaping and rotating in the air, shooting the remaining three arrows at the same time. When I landed behind him, the arrows had hit the dummy on the forehead, neck and chest.

Anduin applauded as I took a deep bow.

"That was magnificent!"

"Did you expect any less from the youngest Farstrider Silvermoon remembers?"

He didn't answer. His broad smile disappeared slowly, giving way to a tense expression.

"It must be quite scary to meet you in battle." His voice was low, scarcely louder than a murmur.

"My enemies rarely have time to be scared."

We stared at each other for what felt like hours, his chest rising and falling rapidly as if he'd been the one doing all the tricks. And then he took a step forward and grabbed my waist, pulling me towards him. I dropped the bow, hands flying to his neck and shoulder as he paused, our faces an inch from each other. My eyes fluttered close when his forehead touched mine, his warm breath tickling my lips as he exhaled.

"What are you doing to me?" It was only a whisper, a private thought slipping out in a moment of weakness. 

His lips touched mine like a caress, filled with tenderness and reverence. He pulled me even closer, deepening the kiss, tasting like sweet red wine and berries. And for a second I didn't want to let go. I wanted to grab his hair, taste all the flavours in his tongue and feel him tremble beneath my hands.

But I couldn't. I couldn't do it. I squeezed his shoulder and pushed him away gently to break the kiss.

"Anduin, I-"

"I'm sorry, Omellas," he interrupted with a slightly panicked look on his face. "I shouldn't have done that."

"It's okay, don't-"

He closed his eyes, covering his face with both hands. "That was highly unprofessional, please forgive me."

"Anduin, it's fine!"

"Please, if you could forget it happened, I would be very grateful." He seemed disoriented, unable to look me in the eyes anymore. "You are welcome to use this room anytime you want. I should go now."

"Anduin, stop!"

I tried to reach out, but he was already walking out the door.

  
  



	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of blood and death

# Chapter Fourteen

I couldn't sleep. My mouth insisted on remembering the taste of Anduin's tongue, and my waist missed the firm grip of his hands. I tossed and turned in bed, making a mess of the sheets and blankets, but failed to push these thoughts away from me while I could still feel the heat of his body pressed against mine and the way his breath travelled through my skin. 

Perhaps a glass of water would help clear my mind. I jogged to the bathroom sink to fill up a glass, desperate to get under the covers again as the cold floor prickled my naked feet. Yet, when I walked past the window, I noticed light still shone in Anduin's bedroom. The candle still rested on the windowsill, though its flame had been extinguished.

I had lost track of time trying to fall asleep, but it had to be late—too late for Anduin to still be awake. Could it be possible he was having trouble as well? Could he be thinking of me? 

I glanced at the bed and back to the only bright light in a sea of darkness across the courtyard. I wouldn't be able to fall asleep anyway, so I sat by the window with a blanket wrapped around me, watching, waiting to catch a glimpse of him. Pressing my warm forehead and cheek against the cold glass was the only thing keeping me grounded and aware of how ridiculous I looked.

My heart gave a jolt of excitement when he finally walked past the window, and I hated myself. The same white shirt still hugged his athletic frame, though the top and cuff buttons had been loosened, and the long jacket with the golden lion on the lapel was nowhere to be seen. 

Apart from Sylvanas, no one had ever made me feel the way Anduin did—like the stars don't shine as bright when we're apart, and the flowers lose their scent, and the world was utterly bleak without him. With Sylvanas, I had grown accustomed to the quickening heartbeat whenever I laid eyes upon her and the sparks on my skin when we touched. Though I loved to deny it, I had been smitten with her ever since I could remember. Still, that sentiment was familiar. It had always been there for me, to the point where it had become an integral part of my identity. Whatever I felt for Anduin was new and terrifying. I was not equipped to handle it. I was not ready to face the consequences.

Someone else came into view for just a few seconds before disappearing again. A female with long blonde hair, skimpy red armour and the characteristically long ears of a blood-elf—Valeera Sanguinar. 

With her arms crossed on her chest and mostly out of frame, she watched Anduin pace around the room, gesturing as if words were not enough to make his point. When she placed a hand on his chest, he stopped to listen, the anxious expression on his face softening immediately. Then they hugged in a way that seemed a bit too intimate, and shortly afterwards Valeera stepped through his open window, disappearing somewhere mid-climb towards the roof.

I had no love for Valeera, and I definitely did not trust her. The rogue claimed to belong to neither faction so she could move freely between capital cities but seemed to have a clear preference for the Wrynn royal family. The rumours about the nature of her relationship with Varian had run wild for years within the Horde, and it looked like they had at least some truth to them: she seemed to have a habit of visiting the kings of Stormwind in their bedroom late at night, and she didn't leave through the front door like regular visitors.

Anduin stood by the open window looking out into the night as I tried to blend with the shadows. When his eyes moved towards the general direction of my room, I feared I had been caught snooping, but there was no sign of acknowledgement from him. Instead, he removed the blue band holding his hair together and gave one last swooping glance around his city before going back in. Soon after, the light in his room went out like all the others.

My fingers curled into my palms, yearning to run through his soft golden locks again, and at that instant, I knew the battle was lost. 

He didn't come looking for me the next day, or the day after that. I tried to reach out to him, but he never seemed to be available. The King of Stormwind was behaving like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum. And yet, I found myself spending more and more time in the practice room after dark, hoping he would show up.

Maybe he regretted kissing me and felt ashamed. Or maybe Valeera told him something about me that made him regret our friendship—who knew what kind of secrets she held or what her agenda even was. Either way, I had to talk to him. It was time for another crazy plan to root him out and make him come to me.

I started sneaking out of my room every night through the window, always headed towards Lion's Rest. I would make sure to be seen by one of the guards, pretending to be bad at running stealthily through the roof. Then I'd sit behind the tall pillars inscribed with the names of those who had perished in battle, staring into the ocean.

I used that time to write to Sylvanas. Every time the quill touched the paper, my heart urged me to write about how much I wanted to quit. I wanted to let her know that I was done with this mission, that I wanted to go back home to her and forget Anduin even existed. Still, the mere idea of disappointing her ripped me apart from the inside and I ended up focusing on telling her about the interesting rumours I'd heard at the tavern or some other random fact I managed to discover that day as we had previously agreed—anything that sounded juicy enough to be of interest to Sylvanas but that wouldn't raise any red flags with SI:7. I knew they were reading my letters before they were sent. 

The fact that I hadn't been thrown in the stockade again meant they didn't know those reports also included the numbers of vessels at the docks, or shift changes, or a record of shipments coming in. They hadn't figured out how to read the text written with the special ink that Sylvanas had commissioned to the Royal Apothecary Society, an ink that would disappear when dry. Even if they did, they still would have to find a way to translate that unique script Nathanos had taught me into the common tongue. Someone was bound to discover the secret sometime—I only hoped they wouldn't work it out while I was still within reach. 

*

Strolling back into the castle a few days later after a visit to the alchemy shop in the Mage Quarter, I spotted Anduin walking with Greymane and a woman I did not recognize—older than him but still beautiful, dressed in a milky white robe with golden accents. Even though she looked vaguely familiar, I was sure we had never met before. I followed them from afar until they entered the Petitioner's Chamber, leaving two guards outside.

An old man came out a while later, flustered and jumpy, wearing common folk clothing and squeezing a cap nervously in his hands. The other three came out a few minutes after, talking in low, hushed voices. I timed my appearance so that it would look like I was casually passing by, to intercept them as they crossed the threshold out of the throne room.

"Good afternoon, Your Majesty." I made a brief curtsy to Anduin, ignoring Greymane's annoyed hiss.

"Good afternoon." He smiled, but for the first time, it did not feel genuine. "I was just about to summon you. Your Warchief has agreed to follow through with my plan to bring humans and Forsaken together."

I had yet to receive a response to my reports from Sylvanas, but this new information meant I should hear from her soon.

"I'm glad to hear that!"

"She sent something for you too," he continued in a dismissive tone, avoiding eye contact. "It should be delivered to you later today."

A clever way to explain that SI:7 were combing through whatever she had sent in search of potential threats to the kingdom and any hidden secrets. 

"Oh, I would like to introduce you to Calia." Anduin gestured towards the priestess by his side as she stepped forward. "She came from the Netherlight Temple and will be helping me interview the people for the gathering."

"It's very nice to meet you," she said with a simple bow.

When I focused on her face, a shiver ran down my spine as I realized why she felt so familiar. Her hair was golden like Anduin's, and her skin equally pale. Yet, her sea-green eyes reminded me of another pair of the same colour that I had not seen in many years.

 _Arthas Menethil_.

The first time I saw Arthas' face up close had also been the last. The Lich King helmet had flown from his head upon collision with someone's battle hammer and had been lost somewhere in the fading mist. I limped towards him as he lay dying, stumbling over the scourge corpses scattered all over the floor. My body, worn out from the long fight, trembled with the kind of restlessness you get right before your prey dies.

I remembered thinking he might've been handsome once, with his piercing eyes, his long hair and that strong jawline. But his hair had become ashy and frail, like the uneven stubble across his jaw, and those eyes, staring blindly into the dark skies over Icecrown Citadel, barely held any life in them now. For just a moment, they flickered in my direction when I collapsed next to him, his ragged breath fogging weakly in the cold air of Northrend.

Without notice, the small wisps of vapour rising from his open mouth disappeared and did not come back. Pure rage coursed through my veins as I snatched one of my arrows from his armour and stabbed him over and over again with it, on his face, his neck, his chest, everywhere I could reach, and I screamed until voice faded away in my raw throat. I was mad that he perished so easily, so soon. His death did not feel like enough payment to repair all the misery and chaos he had inflicted upon this world. I wanted him to suffer more, I _needed_ him to hurt and to ache and feel in his body the pain we felt in our souls.

None of the remaining survivors stopped me, only exhaustion did. The last thing I remembered was being dragged away, my tears and blood mixing with his own to leave a sickly red trail on the ice before everything faded to black. 

I blinked at Calia and the memories she evoked, briefly wondering if they were related in some way. But they couldn't be. It was not possible. We were told Arthas killed the rest of his family when he murdered King Terenas. No one in Lordaeron had been left alive that day, so she couldn't possibly be a family member—just someone unfortunate enough to have the same shade of blue in their eyes.

I bowed my head to be polite, barely able to disguise how disconcerted I felt. "Nice to meet you too." Then I turned to Anduin, clearing my throat and mind to focus on the issue at hand. "Your Majesty, I would like to have a word with you. In private, please?"

"Of course. I will send someone for you soon," he replied, impassive and detached. Then he turned to Calia, gently nudging her forth with a hand on her back. "Shall we?"

I stood there rooted to the floor and just watched them go, unsure of what hurt me more—Anduin's aloof attitude or the visceral memories that had resurfaced in Calia's presence.

Anduin did not reach out to me as he promised, and Sylvanas' letter was not delivered either. Therefore, I sneaked out of my room through the window again at night, as the clock tower marked midnight.

Walking alone through the cobbled alleys of Stormwind, I felt more out of place than ever. That city would never accept me, no matter how nice I tried to be towards everyone who lived there. The shopkeepers kept a close eye on me when I roamed around in their stores, afraid my sticky Horde hands would swipe an item or two. People moved out of my way in the streets as if being near me was a threat to their safety. The guards gripped their guns tighter when I passed by, worried I'd start killing everyone on a whim. 

I never thought I'd miss Orgrimmar's heat. Yet the cold wind of Stormwind, a catalyst for my self-loathing, made me rethink my position on the weather of the Horde's main city. I hugged myself and rubbed my arms to keep warm until I reached Lion's Rest.

My ears twitched, picking up the sound of two male humans leaving a tavern behind me and dragging their drunken feet home. But they picked up something else too—a set of footsteps that made me smile. I didn't even have to look to identify who they belonged to. I would be able to tell them apart in a crowd. He tried not to be detected, stepping lightly and keeping to the shadows, so I feigned unawareness until I reached my destination.

I climbed the stairs to the memorial in honour of King Varian and leaned on one of the pillars, looking out to the sea, waiting for him to approach.

"You ditched your guard again," Anduin accused, voice harsher than usual behind me. Though I pretended to be startled by his presence, a lump of anxiety grew rapidly in my throat just by sensing his tone.

"I apologize," I said, bowing my head. "I just... I wanted a moment alone."

Anduin ambled up the stairs, touching the statue of his father with his right hand. "You're very hard for me to read." He stared at me, intense and deep, perhaps trying to access every corner of my mind. "What are you doing here?"

"It's a beautiful place. I just wanted to think, and this felt like the most peaceful spot in the city."

"No, I mean... What are you doing here, in Stormwind?" He brushed a strand of hair back from his frowning forehead, struggling to remain composed. "Why are you _really_ here?"

The familiar sweet undertone in his voice had disappeared. He had always used it with me, from the first moment we met. But now I couldn't find it anymore—there was only bitterness and veiled anger. Whatever Valeera had told him about me must've had a massive effect to the point that he even doubted my intentions for the first time.

"I don't understand."

"Look me in the eyes and tell the truth," he insisted, taking another step in my direction. I was suddenly very aware of how rigid the monument felt pressed against my back, preventing me from backing away if I needed. "You've been leaving your room at night, bypassing the guards and coming here. You bought invisibility potions today. What are you doing? Who are you going to meet?"

"Anduin, I-"

"Did you come here to kill me?" He couldn't have been blunter if he tried to, shadows of frustration rippling across his face. "Are you just waiting for the perfect opportunity? Is this it, then? Is this the moment you plunge a knife into my heart?" Anduin stood tall and confident, his noble upbringing shining through. If he was scared, he did not let it show.

Any other person trying to call out my bullshit would immediately trigger my confrontational side. But somehow he didn't. I searched as deep as possible within me but found no desire to be hostile. Instead, I just looked him in the eyes like he asked and allowed for my sadness seep through. 

"I think that moment has come and gone," I replied with all the tenderness I could muster.

"Then who's your target?"He raised his voice at me for the first time, and I shuddered. "Is it Genn? Turalyon? Alleria? Does Sylvanas want her sisters dead?"

"Probably. But I'm not here to kill anyone, Anduin. I know it's hard to believe, but you know I'm telling the truth."

His face softened when I said his name, but the resentment in his eyes did not disappear. "I don't trust myself to distinguish truth from lies anymore. Congratulations on that."

"What did Valeera tell you about me?" Anduin's eyes narrowed at my question, and I could almost hear his brain filing with suspicion like water in a tub. "I saw her sneaking out of your room the other night. It was very late."

"So you _have_ been spying on me."

"Come on Anduin, I can see your room from my window, remember?" He recoiled when I tried to touch his arm, and it surprised me how deeply that gesture hurt me. "I couldn't sleep. I got up to drink some water, and I saw her leaving."

"Valeera told me some things about you." His jaw clenched, as did his fists. "You were a champion of the Argent Tournament. You killed the Lich King. You fought Prince Kael'thas too. You stood against Garrosh and almost paid for that with your own life. At the Wrathgate and at the Broken Shore, you saved many lives, including Alliance. You fought alongside Vellen at the Exodar and helped save many draenei. And this is just the beginning."

I did not reply. Those were all good things, things I was proud of, and I couldn't understand why he looked so mad at me as he recounted some of my accomplishments.

"Apparently Sylvanas thinks very highly of you. She lavishes you with praise to anyone who wants to hear."

"I should hope so, I've been by her side for many years. I never tried to hide my loyalty to her. "

"I also know you're the one who led the attack on Gilneas alongside her," he continued, still staring, still clenching his fists. "You tried to enslave Eyir. You have a lot of blood in your hands but your good deeds far outweigh the bad. So why did Valeera tell me not to trust you? Why doesn't anyone trust you? What are they seeing in you that I can't?"

"They are not like you. They will never trust someone who belongs to the Horde."

"Everyone is telling me to get as far away from you as possible. And yet, my feelings for you continue to grow. Is this some kind of spell you put on me?"

I could feel myself getting smaller and smaller as he yelled, powerless to fight back.

"I've felt drawn to you since the first time I saw you and I don't know why. I can't explain why I'm so blinded by you. These past few days I tried to stay away and it physically hurt not being with you! What are you doing to me? Tell me the truth, I need to know!"

 _Do whatever you need to do_. Sylvanas' words flared in my mind and I wanted to shout at her that this was all her fault. Surviving for years on the scraps of her affection had me so starved that I couldn't handle being actually loved without giving in completely like a pushover. What I needed to do was to tell the truth. Having all of this stuck in my chest was making it hard for me to breathe and think and do my damn job.

"I could ask you the same, Anduin! I'm also feeling things I can't explain, and I hate it! I've spent most of my life pretending I'm nothing but an empty shell with no emotions and now you stand there and make me fall for you and prove that all those years were nothing but a waste!"

His eyes opened wide, eyebrows shooting upwards in a brief display of surprise. "What did you say?" 

I had been so focused on not getting caught on my lies that I forgot why I had travelled to Stormwind in the first place. Maybe that's why I was being so successful in my mission—somewhere along the way, I had been so persuasive that I had fooled even myself. 

"You can't imagine how hard it was to overcome the withdrawal symptoms that came after the destruction of the Sunwell. I spent many years practising and meditating to gain full control over myself. I refused to acknowledge my feelings, I hated the idea of becoming someone who acts on emotion alone. Many of those that survived the fall of Silvermoon were too weak to deal with withdrawal. My rational mind is the only thing that kept me alive after I lost everything. And it worked, you know?"

I had to pause to catch my breath, strangled sobs catching in my throat, stomach twisting with the sudden rush of deep, personal revelations gushing out of me. I turned away, unable to stand his gaze anymore, not while admitting all of this. Yet, I couldn't stop the words from flowing either.

"It kept me going, from battle to battle, I did what was required of me without thinking twice about it. I became a machine. And then years later Sylvanas allowed me back into her life and I saw so much of myself in her, the lack of emotion and the focus on what needed to be done and… It worked for her too, so I figured I should just keep doing what I was doing! But you…"

I could feel his eyes boring through my back, but he remained silent as a wedge of anger and tears filled my throat, and I buried my face in my hands for a moment to push it down again. I turned towards him to find that his anger had quieted. Yet, my soul remained unsettled and agitated.

"You're tearing all my walls down, a lifetime of control and restrain just lying in ruins at your feet! Being with you is so comforting, I find myself opening up to you effortlessly. I have told you things I have never told anyone before. Not even Sylvanas! And I don't know if I hate you for it or if this is what I've been waiting for all along. You make it so easy for me to lose myself! This was not supposed to happen! This can't happen!"

Fingernails dug into my palms, the pain an anchor to keep the tears from falling even if my voice quivered and exposed my weakness. It was bad enough that I was having such an emotional outburst. I simply refused to cry.

He raised his hand to my face, and I flinched unintentionally. He paused, letting it fall to his side again without touching me. "You know you don't need to be afraid of me. I could never hurt you," he vowed achingly. 

"I didn't mean to make you mad. I'm sorry I left the room without the guards. I won't do it again, I promise."

"I'm not mad," he whispered.

He raised his hand again, slower this time. He stroked my cheek with the back of his index finger, my eyes fluttering close in a moment of instant gratification as I leaned into his touch. When I opened them again, I let them linger on his lips before raising my gaze to his eyes. They scrutinized my face, making me self-conscious, heart pounding in my chest. But then he focused on my lips, swallowing deeply, bringing warmth to my cheeks and a deep desire to be held, to just melt into his arms. His forehead rested against mine, closing his eyes.

When he spoke, his voice was still nothing more than a whisper. Yet it struck the deepest corners of my very core. "What is happening to us?"


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realise that posting a new chapter right after the launch of a new expansion is probably literary suicide, with everyone too busy discovering all the good stuff in Azeroth hell, but well. Here it is anyway, and I hope you enjoy it.

# Chapter Fifteen

Through Anduin's parted lips, only inches away from mine, his hasty and uneven breath emerged to paint a picture of raw emotion all over my skin. "I think I'm falling in love with you," he stated in a husky voice.

I hid my face in the curve of his neck, arms embracing his strong torso. Those words ignited something deep within me, a flame on the pit of my stomach that grew each second. No one had ever said that to me before. For the first time in my life, I felt liberated and light, like I could sprout wings and take flight to discover the freedom of the skies. 

"This is crazy, Anduin. We can't be together."

As he wrapped his arms around me to pull me closer, heat rose to my chest, washing over my entire body like a wave. In the quiet of the night, with only the sea for company, I could feel his heartbeat drumming in the veins on his neck, the citrusy scent of his hair completely inebriating to my senses.

"Why not?" 

I pulled away just enough to look at him again. "You should be trying to find a queen who can give you an heir and-" 

"You could be my queen." 

I felt the corners of my mouth transforming into a smile as I caressed his cheek. For a moment, while his words still lingered between us, I imagined myself standing beside him as his queen, and everything was easy and happy. That's all I really wanted: an easy and happy life.

It was a beautiful dream. But it was only that: a dream. The knowledge that this was an impossible thought kept tugging at the edges of my conscience, like faraway thunder during a winter storm. 

"Your people would never accept me as their queen. Besides, I'm not going to stay in Stormwind forever."

"You don't have to go back. You said it yourself, this city is charming and more pleasant than Orgrimmar, and I-"

I placed one finger on his lips to interrupt him. Dwelling on this idea would only make reality much harder to swallow if we allowed these feelings to grow. The chaotic mess of my love for Sylvanas had been tearing through me for a lifetime, wrecking everything at its passage and shredding to pieces my ability to give myself wholly to anyone else. I knew this, and he needed to know as well.

"I don't belong here," I started, bracing myself for the agony that would come with breaking his heart. "I belong with _her_."

Sadness flickered in his eyes as his eyebrows drew together. "But you just said-"

"I know what I said, and it was all true! But you have a duty as the king of Stormwind, and I have a duty as a soldier of the Horde. We have responsibilities, Anduin."

"Stop being so rational and listen to your heart!"

"I can't!" I wanted to pull away from him, but all I managed was to get a few inches of distance between us. I could not bring myself to let go of his shoulders, as if my fingers resisted my will to release him. "I don't know how to do that!" 

"Then allow me to show you." The way he held my waist as if he never wanted to be apart from me made his argument much more compelling. "Let me love you while I can."

"But what's going to happen when the time comes for me to leave? It's going to be harder if we give into this. For both of us."

He sighed, stroking my hair and then letting his hand rest on my neck. "You're here now, that's all that matters to me. Whatever happens next, we will deal with it later."

No one had ever loved me like this before. No one had ever wanted to defy the entire world just to be with me. The responsibility of carrying someone else's heart in my hands was exhilarating and terrifying in equal amounts. 

"Are you sure about this?" 

"All I want is to be with you."

He smiled as he said it, and suddenly I stopped caring about who we were, and what responsibilities we had. I didn't care about the future or anyone else. It was just him and me, cradled by the crashing of the waves on the cliffside below, wanting to love each other. 

"Kiss me again," I breathed. "Please."

He pushed me softly against the wall, claiming my lips without a second thought. I closed my eyes and gave myself permission to feel, truly feel everything freely and without guilt for the first time in my life. And it felt wonderful. I allowed the longing to consume me as a relentless fluttering in my stomach and the hammering of my heart against the ribs. I did not dismiss the tingling impatience of my skin to feel his touch and let my fingers grasp his shirt as if we could never be close enough. The way Anduin's body pressed against mine made it hard to think, thoughts evaporating completely in the heat of his kisses, hungry and urgent. And then he parted his lips, turning my knees into mush as he offered me a taste of the insane passion in his tongue.

I did not realise I had tears running down my face until he moved his hand to my cheek and broke the kiss, startled by my wet skin.

"Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?"

"No, this is…" My mind was foggy, and I chuckled at how absurdly hard it felt to form coherent sentences. "This is good." 

He wiped my tears with his thumbs, amusement glinting in his eyes. "Is this new for you?"

"I've been with other people before, but it was never like this." 

Except that one night with Sylvanas, under the dome of tree branches and stars in Thunder Bluff. That single moment in which she held me in her hands, her lips touched mine, my brain froze, and the whole world stopped making sense. But that was just a single moment, after which I was not granted permission to remain lost in the bliss and ecstasy that hovered stubbornly around me. She didn't feel what I felt. She wasn't kissing me to show the extent of her affection for me, but to teach me a lesson. And the worst part about it was that I was failing that lesson miserably.

With Anduin, I didn't feel ashamed of giving in to my desires for once. I savoured that delightful feeling, and I could not get enough of it. 

He buried his fingers in my hair and kissed me again, smiling into it. "It's new for me too. I've never felt like this before. I was so scared you would push me away again."

"I don't have the strength to push you away anymore."

"I'm so sorry I doubted you. I shouldn't have, please forgive me."

He seemed to be clinging to me as if I was the oxygen he needed to survive, and I had never felt so needed, so special. 

"There's something I need to confess," I told him. "The reason why I've been leaving my room at night and why I bought those potions was to make you suspicious." I bit my lip, trying to look at him all coy through my eyelashes, but I was actually quite pleased that the plan had worked. "You refused to see me, and I didn't know how else to make you come talk to me. I missed you."

"You sneaky elf," he smirked, running his thumb lovingly along my jaw.

I hugged him, letting my head rest on his shoulder. "We should go to sleep soon, it's getting very late…"

"We really should," he agreed.

Yet, none of us moved. 

The idea of going to my room and spending the night alone in the dark seemed too daunting after the moments we had just shared. I wanted more. It felt almost like the first time I tried mana tapping—being with him was killing a hunger I didn't know I had.

"I don't want to be apart from you even for a second," he murmured as if he could read my thoughts.

"Me neither."

"Would you…" He paused, breath quickening all of a sudden. "Would you like to stay with me tonight?"

I grinned into his neck and nodded before kissing his cheek. "I would like to stay with you every night," I whispered.

"That is very inappropriate," he replied, the strings of a mischievous thought pulling his lips into a lopsided smile. "I love the idea."

"There's something I'd like to ask first," I started. "I think it would be safer for both of us if we refrain from public displays of affection. I can already see Greymane sending me back to the stockade when he finds out..."

Anduin giggled. "No one is sending you back to the stockade!" Then his smile disappeared, and he sighed. "But perhaps you're right. But I'd still like to hold your hand tonight when we go back to the castle if you don't mind. It's late, no one will see us."

"What about the guards on patrol?"

"They will not say a word."

On the way back to the keep, the streets of Stormwind didn't seem so foreign, walking with Anduin. Not while his fingers were so closely intertwined with mine—a safety net that would not let me fall apart. 

When he didn't seem to notice the confused looks the guards threw our way as we passed by, I had to voice the question pressing in my mind. "Have you had many girlfriends before?"

He hesitated, blushing slightly at my question. "None, actually."

"Oh, so that's why your guards look so dumbfounded. Must be quite shocking to see their pure and virtuous king walking hand in hand with a vicious Horde girl."

"It's hard to have a relationship when all people can see is a marriage on the horizon. It's too much pressure."

Marrying well, or marrying at all, had never been expected of me. No one cared if I continued my bloodline or if it died with me. It was both freeing and sad—there was no one left to care.

When we reached his quarters, Anduin ordered the guards not to disturb him in the morning. They bowed their heads as we stepped into the receiving room, and I didn't look back when I closed the door behind me.

My heart thrummed in my chest as he opened the door to his dark bedroom. Silver rays of moonlight coming in through the windows fell on the floor at the foot of the bed. When he turned on the light, I could sense that Anduin did not fully feel like he belonged there. The armour stand in the corner displayed his luxurious armour and the sword that belonged to his father; the blue canopy over the bed was embroidered with golden thread; and the furniture was clearly made of very expensive wood. Yet, it was visible that Anduin made an effort to keep the room mostly free of other riches or visibly expensive trinkets—the modesty of priesthood and his own nature being the mark he could leave on the royal quarters. Only the dressing table had a few personal objects resting upon it, as well as the candelabra he seemingly used to communicate with Valeera.

On the wall, next to his bed, a splendid mace hung from a hook. With a silver head and gems as embellishment, it gleamed and sparkled in the light. As I approached to inspect it up close, I noticed the runes carved into the bands of gold wrapping around it—a weapon truly fit for a king. 

"That's Fearbreaker," Anduin explained. "King Magni Bronzebeard gave it to me many years ago. I later passed it on to Baine, but he returned it. He didn't feel worthy of wielding it."

I wrapped an arm around him and kissed his cheek. "I'm sorry you can't keep in touch with your friend."

"That's what's going to happen to us if you go back, isn't it?"

" _When_ I go back," I corrected. "Sylvanas was adamant on Baine not being in contact with you, I don't think she'll open an exception for me."

He buried his lips in my hair. "Let's not think about that now. Would you like some wine?"

"Not tonight. Can we just… cuddle?"

He grinned, hands cupping my face. "I'd love that."

When we kissed again, it was still as breathtaking as before. When he handed me one of his shirts, he turned away afterwards, respectful of my body and privacy so that I could change into something more comfortable than my leather clothes. And when we laid down to sleep, our bodies fit together like matching pieces of a puzzle.

I woke up with my arm draped over his torso, rising and falling softly along with his deep breathing. Someone knocked impatiently on the door of the receiving room, but he was too lost in his sleep to hear it. I kissed his shoulder and whispered his name, watching his eyelids flutter open.

"Someone didn't get your memo," I joked, as he rubbed his eyes.

"I would like my orders to be followed correctly for once," he muttered while getting up, still groggy with sleep. "Stay here, I'll get rid of whoever it is."

I strained to listen to the conversation from the receiving room, recognising Greymane's irritating voice.

"You're sleeping with the enemy now?" I could hear that subtle growl at the end of the sentence that always appeared when he raised his voice. "This is beyond irrational, Anduin. You must realise that."

So much for keeping this a secret.

"Genn, that is enough. I will not tolerate this behaviour! I understand you're concerned, but you will need to obey my orders just like everyone else. I ordered not to be disturbed this morning, so I would appreciate it if you would leave. If you need me, you know where I will be this afternoon."

Then the door opened and closed with a bang. When Anduin came back, he seemed more tired than before. 

"I'm sorry if you heard any of that. I'll make sure he doesn't bother you."

"I feel like I'm just causing trouble for you."

"Indeed, you are a bit of a troublemaker," he grinned, sitting next to me. "But that's all part of your charm."

"Ugh, you're so silly," I giggled, straddling him for a proper good morning kiss.

He gripped my waist at first, and then he let one of his hands rest on my naked thigh. I waited for him to make a move, but he didn't. Instead, he said, "There's something I need to tell you."

"What is it?"

He nudged me gently off of his lap and walked to the dressing table where he picked up a black wooden box. 

"This arrived for you yesterday morning." He handed me the box along with a letter bearing the Horde symbol in red wax, broken. "I should've given it to you right away but, as you know, it had to go through SI:7 for security measures. And then when they told me what it said I felt scared of what it would mean to you."

I remembered the box. I had seen Sylvanas open it to discover an azerite necklace. The metallic sound of the chain rattling inside reached us when I shook it lightly.

"Why would this scare you?"

"It's pathetic but…" He lowered his gaze, embarrassed. "The message sounded like a code for you to leave. I wasn't ready to lose you."

My heart jumped at the word code, yet the fact that he was delivering the letter and gift meant that they hadn't found anything suspicious. I lifted the silver clasp to reveal the same Horde-shaped pendant with the same bead of azerite in the centre resting on the same silk pillow.

"We thought the Horde was creating weapons of mass destruction with azerite, but you're crafting jewellery instead?" 

My attention shifted to the letter without offering a reply. Sylvanas' own neat handwriting greeted me in shiny black ink.

_A reminder of home while you are away._

_Remember where your loyalty lies._

_\- S._

  
  



	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mentions of death

# Chapter Sixteen

_Grandmother Kallenia patted the green cushion next to her on the sofa and I sat down, fists subtly clenched to conceal the growing distress in my mind. Her big blue eyes stared into my own as if she could read my thoughts. “Are you scared, baby bird?”_

_I nodded._

_“What do we do when we’re scared?”_

_“I know! I know!” Amaria’s arm shot up without hesitation. “We punch fear in the face!"_

_The tension in the house had been high since Lady Sylvanas had delivered the news about the rumours, but even father laughed at Amaria’s enthusiasm—that in itself was an accomplishment. My baby sister, visibly pleased, perched herself on mother's lap to have her ponytail fixed._

_"Your sister is not wrong," father agreed, any sign of the previous amusement already replaced by his usual austere posture. "After acknowledging our fears, we push past them and we do what needs to be done."_

_Grandmother gestured for me to turn around, so she could comb her fingers through my hair as well._

_“This is it,” she declared, disentangling every lock unhurriedly like a ritual. “This right here is the moment when you stop being a baby bird and become the phoenix you were born to be. This is why you’ve been training all these years. You are a Farstrider now! The time has come for you to be brave and to remember what you’ve learned. Recite the Band'ieborath to me."_

_"Duty always comes first," I parroted. "Do not let your heart get in the way. Trust your instincts. You always have something more to give."_

_Grandmother began to divide the hair on top of my head into strands. “I want you to add a new rule to that set,” she started, expert fingers weaving the strands into an intricate design. “Always trust Lady Sylvanas Windrunner. She is exceptional and so are you. You two are destined for great things.”_

_“You really think so, grandma?”_

_“I really do. You are special. That’s why she took such interest in you.”_

_Mother nodded in agreement from across the living room, while Amaria watched us in awe._

_“But why am I special?_ How _am I special?”_

_“Perhaps you two will figure it out together in the future.”_

The memory of the last meal my family ate together brought with it an ache that slashed like sharp knives across my chest. The Band'ieborath, or The Principles, had been passed down from generation to generation in my family, drilled into us since birth like bedtime stories—the code we should live by to honor the bloodline and our people. Just like all my ancestors for millenia, I had been born with the responsibility to defend Quel'Thalas and the High Elves, something I took great pride in.

These principles were so vital, they took over the last conversation I ever had with my grandmother, the night before I watched her being torn to pieces by the scourge. They were carved into my bones, sculpted into my muscles, swimming inside my veins. I could never forget them. And yet, I was failing at least half of them. My grandmother, my uncles, aunts, cousins, my parents and even my little sister—they had all given their lives fighting, just like Sylvanas, to stop the Lich King and the scourge so that I could live. The letter I held in my trembling fingers was a sour reminder that I was disappointing everyone that ever mattered to me by acknowledging and acting on my feelings for the High King of the Alliance.

"Remember where your loyalty lies," Anduin repeated, unaware of my inner turmoil. "What does she mean by that?"

“It means she’s been betrayed enough times by the people she trusted and she’s trying to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Sylvanas knew I would rather die than betray her. I let out a deep sigh, hoping Anduin wouldn't notice my blatant lie. Even now that my feelings for him were growing and changing beyond expected, she was still a constant presence in my mind. My loyalty never wavered, even when I thought she was gone forever. It never would. 

I saw this letter for what it really was—a stepping stone in the plan we had created together. If they thought she was worried about the consequences of my presence in Stormwind, if they believed I was even remotely capable of double-crossing her, perhaps the Alliance leaders would be inclined to trust me a bit more or at least try to use me to get to her. Either way, I could take advantage of that. 

I placed the box and letter on the bed beside me as the shakiness spread to my hands and became more apparent so that I could hide it in my closed fists.

"Speaking of betrayal,” he ventured, clearing his throat. "I've been meaning to ask you something but I'm unsure if I should. This seems like a moment as good as any other, I guess." 

The strain in his voice revealed just how hard this was for him, so I pushed the discomfort aside to give him my full attention. "You can ask me anything, Anduin."

He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Do you think Sylvanas betrayed my father that day? On the Broken Shore?"

"Oh, Anduin… That day was so chaotic and terrifying…” I hesitated, knowing he could not have picked a worse time to bring up such a heavy topic. Romma’s words came back to me, my heart aching with their weight as if my skin could still feel the cold metal tearing it open. There really was no other way to describe it. “It was a bloodbath.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

I consented as he pulled me back onto his lap. "I was injured just minutes before Sylvanas called the retreat, so I didn't see what happened. But… I was right there. Vol'jin was fighting close by, completely surrounded. He seemed to be handling it but they were everywhere.” I let my forehead rest against his, closing my eyes to contain the nausea growing in my stomach like an infection. “From what I was told, Vol'jin was fatally wounded just minutes after I passed out. He was the one who told her to call for retreat."

I forced myself to look at his impossibly blue eyes, noticing how different he was from Varian. My contact with the former king of Stormwind had been limited, but I recalled thinking about how handsome his features were. While Anduin's face had softer edges, Varian's scars conferred a certain wildness to his rugged looks. 

"I'm really sorry about your father, Anduin. But I know for a fact that Sylvanas had a lot of respect for him. She wouldn't have done it if there was any other option."

He nodded, satisfied with the answer. I hugged Anduin around the neck to hide my hands behind his back, fists so tight the nails were digging into my palms. The shivers climbed up my arms as goosebumps and then ran down my back, leaving behind a trail of absolute dread.

Many years had passed since the last time I had felt withdrawal symptoms without being previously weakened by severe injuries. Of course past issues had to resurface on my damaged body and soul to obliterate the flicker of happiness Anduin was offering me. I was doomed to a life of misery where no joy could ever survive for long. Panic crept up on me as I gritted my teeth, afraid I wouldn't be able to contain this.

I leaned in for a kiss, clinging to the taste of his tongue and the safety of his strong arms before everything inside me fell apart. Then he kissed my forehead and gazed down into my eyes. 

"How were you injured?"

"Didn't Valeera tell you about that?"

When he shook his head, I felt my face fall into an automatic frown. Depending on how it was phrased, the answer to this question—that I was prepared to die for Sylvanas—could undermine the purpose of her gift and letter.

"I was stabbed in the chest," I started, in a low voice. His hand flew to my back, stroking gently for comfort. "Sylvanas protected me until a healer took me to safety."

"Is that what you meant when you said she saved your life?"

"Well, kind of. She saved my life on multiple occasions in many different ways, but that day…" I closed my eyes, chest heavy with painful memories and the unmistakable hunger that had driven many sin’dorei insane before. "She could have left me there with everyone else that perished. That wound would’ve killed me. But she didn't leave and she kept me safe until help arrived. I keep wondering if…"

When I didn’t finish my train of thought for a few seconds, he pressed for an answer. "If?" 

I gulped down any second thoughts, choosing to be straightforward instead of making up any more lies. "I wonder if Sylvanas would've gotten to Vol'jin in time to help him if she had just left me there to die instead. If he hadn't been injured, maybe we wouldn't have needed to retreat. Maybe... Maybe your father would still be alive."

I covered my face to hide the tears welling up in my eyes. I had never voiced these thoughts to anyone before. It was a selfish thought, to believe I was the reason why the leaders of both factions had died, why that battle had been lost. But it was also painful and filled me with guilt and remorse and saying it out loud was like ripping open old wounds just to pour salt on them.

"Omellas…" he murmured, pulling me closer to him and kissing my hair. "It's not your fault." 

He clutched my hands tenderly, coaxing me into revealing my face. There were tears in his eyes too. His finger grazed my jawline, persuading me to raise my head.

"Go away, tears," he whispered, kissing the tears on both my cheeks. “Go away, tears.” 

My heart was so full of affection for that man, it felt like it was about to explode. I allowed him to hold me, trying my best to ignore the ache rising in my limbs. The hunger was growing by the second. My body temperature was rising, soon I would be sweating and shivering uncontrollably, and I wouldn’t be able to hide it anymore.

“Anduin, I think I need to get something from my room,” I admitted, unable to mask the struggle in my voice.

“Why, what’s happening?” He observed me for a few seconds, placing his hand on my forehead. “You’re burning up!”

“It’s a blood elf thing.” I lifted my left hand to show him the tremors and he intertwined his fingers with mine, trying to make it stop. “I never attuned back to the Sunwell and I need to draw some energy from a crystal. I have trouble dealing with the withdrawal symptoms when I’m too emotional and the last few hours have been a bit heavy on that front.”

“I didn’t know you still had to deal with that.”

“I can usually control it with meditation and only need the crystals when I’m recovering after severe injuries, but allowing my emotions to run out of control makes it harder to ignore the hunger.”

He held me tighter, as if he was trying to contain it himself. "Is everyone still…?"

"I don't know any other sin'dorei who haven't attuned so I don't know how to answer that."

“I’m sorry. I feel responsible…”

“You definitely are,” I giggled, giving him a peck on the lips. “I’m not the only troublemaker in this relationship.”

Pain scattered all over my body and I winced, holding my torso as if that would help to keep myself together. The shivers were spreading everywhere, cold sweat breaking out on my forehead and back. 

"Okay, let's make you feel better," he declared. The tone was calm but I could hear the undertones of veiled panic in his voice.

He grabbed a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around me before picking me up almost effortlessly. It felt nice being taken care of, for a change, so I let him carry me out.

“I’m going to have one of my healers take a look at you,” he announced as we exited his receiving room.

“Anduin, there’s no need-”

“It’s been too long," he continued, as if he wasn't even listening to me. "Your symptoms shouldn’t be this severe by now.”

I raised my hand to caress his cheek. “I’ve consulted with healers before multiple times. They all tell me there’s nothing wrong with me and that this is probably going to last my whole life. I've accepted that. You need to accept it too."

"It won't hurt to see another one, right? Please," he begged. "I will feel better knowing I've done everything I could to help."

"Fine," I agreed, nestling into his chest with my eyes closed.

Anduin held me tightly against him, striding through the halls of the keep like he was on a mission. I focused on matching my breathing with his own to take my mind off the pain and general discomfort. For a few moments, I felt the fog of worry lifting from my brain and being replaced with an unfamiliar sense of peace. The ache in my stomach wasn't so sharp anymore, and I stopped shivering.

I opened my eyes to see Light pouring from him and into my body, cleansing my struggles with guilt and doubt, heightening only my need to be near him. It felt as if his presence, his touch, his Light could erase my craving for fel crystals completely.

I looked up at him but it seemed he wasn’t doing it on purpose or even aware of what was happening. It wasn't the usual golden glow of his healing magic, but wisps of Light just spilling out of his pores as he walked with determination in every step.

“How are you doing this?”

He looked down at me with a puzzled look. “Doing what?”

“This,” I said, showing him how the wisps of Light followed my hand if I pulled it away from his chest, wrapping around it like a cloud. 

He stopped in his tracks, alarmed by the sight. “I’m not doing that!”

“Well I’m not doing it either!” I opened and closed my fist, noticing my hand wasn't shaking anymore. "Can you feel anything?"

"Yes, I feel the Light flowing through me but that is normal when I'm anxious or stressed. I've never seen anything like this before."

"Is Light healing me on its own? What does this mean?” 

Light climbed up my arms and shoulders, enveloping my whole body as it scrubbed away the agony, leaving behind only a quiet high. 

"I don't know…"


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, this chapter was an absolute nightmare to write, so I apologize if it's also a nightmare to read.

# Chapter Seventeen

Two inkwells sat on my desk as I opened Sylvanas' letter once again. Both glass, both containing black ink. The first one had been provided by Anduin after assigning this room to me. The label read “Writing Ink” in calligraphy full of flourishes and loops. The other one, offered to me by Sylvanas, held no label. Its only distinctive feature was the beautiful skull-shaped stopper that caught the sunlight in a wealth of colours.

I let a few drops of my special ink fall on the back of the letter she had sent, watching them glide and spread through the paper as if they had a life of their own. Slowly, they revealed the strokes etched by her hand specifically for me.  
  


_Are you safe? Did Greymane bother you again?  
_ _I have received a letter from Anduin about a gathering between humans and my Forsaken.  
Should I be worried?  
  
_

Filled with a staggering sense of melancholic longing, I stared at the words until they disappeared again. I missed her presence, her words of advice. I missed watching her walking around Orgrimmar and feeling unbeatable again, knowing she would stand by me through thick and thin.

Deep into enemy territory, Anduin made me feel safe. Yet, being with him meant I was more vulnerable than I had ever allowed myself to be. Most of all, I was terrified of how this relationship, no matter how brief, would change me. 

Pulling a blank piece of paper from the top drawer, I dipped the pen into the first inkwell to scribble a quick response. Despite everything that was happening, at the end of the day, I still had been assigned a clear mission and had to act accordingly.   
  


_Orgrimmar is still my home. Yet, Stormwind is carving a special place in my heart.  
Thank you for allowing me to visit such a wonderful city and meet such pleasant people.  
_ _The necklace is beautiful and I shall cherish this gift forever.  
_ _-O  
  
_

This message was not for her, but the Alliance. They would certainly link it to the fact that I went through the trouble of learning the names of my personal guards by heart, and that I had been inquiring about odd jobs and vendors that would be interested in buying any meat or pelts I could gather with my hunting skills. Hopefully, they would conclude that I was getting everything ready to settle down in Stormwind for a while, especially if they knew about Anduin and me—and I was sure that a certain spymaster was already aware of it. Little happened in Stormwind without his knowledge, as far as I knew. 

Then I turned the paper to write a second message, this time with a different ink.

_  
I am safe. Anduin protects me.  
_ _His heart is pure and his intentions are good.  
I can assure you this gathering is not a trap.  
He means well and wants nothing but peace.  
  
_

Maybe she wouldn’t have to know. Maybe I’d be strong enough to go back to my old self once I went back home. I had survived worse—breaking up this relationship and moving on couldn’t possibly be that bad. There would certainly be other people in my life, perhaps even-

I rubbed my eyes to stop from dwelling on daydreams and added one last line.   
  


_Everything is going according to plan._  
  


I blew softly on the ink to let it dry, and, as the words faded away, I let my worries fade into the darkest corners of my mind as well. 

Let it be a problem for future me.

*

Spring brought with it a series of days with unusually warm weather. Anduin and the priestess Calia locked themselves for hours in the Petitioner’s Chamber, going through a list of people Sylvanas and her Forsaken had provided and interviewing them for what was officially being called “The Gathering”. 

Their main goal was to assess the genuine feelings and thoughts of all the candidates—which meant I had to stay out of it. They had to feel safe enough to voice any concerns regarding the Forsaken or even the Horde, and my presence would surely have an inhibiting effect on these people. Most of them only knew me as someone who usually stood on the opposite side of the battlefield. They did not trust me, and I couldn’t blame them.

The Forsaken had suffered enough at the hands of the living. The last thing they needed was to suffer at the hands of their friends and family as well. It was my job to make sure this gathering was safe for everyone involved, especially them, and if that meant putting all my trust in Anduin to make the right decisions, I was prepared to do so. 

Anduin would always ask me to spend the night with him, and he would tell me all about the day’s interviews between soft touches and gentle kisses. I trusted him to make the best possible choice on who would be allowed to attend the event. 

The warmth and comfort of his arms seemed to keep my nightmares at bay, and, somehow, my presence seemed to do the same for him.

“If I had known it would be so good to wake up with such tender kisses, I would’ve gotten a girlfriend a long time ago,” he joked one morning.

“You do realise that most couples don’t share a bed every night right at the beginning of their relationship, right?”

“Most couples don’t have an expiration date right from the start either.” He yawned and nuzzled his nose on my neck. “Every moment I have with you is as precious to me as the air we breathe.”

We snuggled together under the heavy blanket and he ended up being late for his morning appointments again that day.

While he conducted the interviews, I spent hours upon hours hunched over tomes and scrolls in the Royal Library, searching for any clues to explain the attitude of the Light that day. 

There were surprisingly few texts talking about Light’s behaviour or reasoning. Everyone just seemed to accept Light and its powers without dispute, which felt even more disturbing to me. How could you dedicate your entire life to some sort of invisible entity and not question its motives?

One afternoon, at the end of a meeting with Anduin’s advisors, I decided to tackle my quest for knowledge from a different perspective. 

"Anduin, how much do you trust Velen?" I asked, watching the old draenei lingering by the centre table in the war room to engage in idle chatter with Turalyon. 

"I would trust him with my life. Why?" 

"There's something I need to ask him."

Before I could walk away, Anduin held me by the hand and whispered in my ear. “Please be in your room before sunset. I have a surprise for you.”

When I raised an inquisitive brow at him, he pretended to lock his lips with a key and throw it out before leaving the room with a very smug smile on his face. 

I approached the two men and cleared my throat to get their attention. “Prophet, do you have a moment?”

“Of course, child. How can I help you?”

“Not here.”

I led him outside, away from unwanted ears, and told him about the episode that had been bothering me for days. He walked quietly beside me, listening intently until I finished.

We had fought together against the Legion to save his home planet, his people. Though he was a devout follower of the Light, he was also old and wise. I wondered if he might have witnessed something like that in his long life, and I hoped he might be able to provide some answers or, at least, point me in the right direction.

“I can feel the Light in you, though you try to forsake it,” he replied, as we turned a corner. “Why are you so hesitant to accept its blessings when Light clings to you with such determination?”

I paused, unsure if I should tell him the whole truth.

M’uru’s last moments still haunted me, his essence consumed until he was lost to the Void. Velen himself had meddled in business that was not his to meddle with and used the fallen Naaru’s heart to restore the Sunwell. While the Prophet had claimed the heart was still uncorrupted, how could we be sure? How could we know that using it in the Sunwell would be safe and that it would continue to be safe, when M’uru had become a void god after the Light in him had been drained? 

And then in Argus, I had helped Xe’ra return to the Vindicaar, only to watch her trying to force Illidan to join the path of the Light. I did not want that fate for myself—to be forcefully imprisoned and made to follow a path I did not believe in. And that day with Anduin, that’s how I felt. I had not been able to find any strength in me to fight it as if my will had been anaesthetized.

“I fear it,” I admitted, climbing the steps to the Cathedral. “I fear both its presence and the absence of it. I have seen what happens to the Naaru when the Light goes out in them, and when we don’t do what they want. I fear the same will happen to me because I lack devotion and faith.”

“Is that why you’re reluctant to attune to the Sunwell?”

“We took it for granted before and having to live without it almost destroyed us. Who’s to say something like that won’t happen again? At least this way I won’t forget how to survive without it.”

Velen nodded as if he understood. “You helped defeat Entropius at Quel’Danas, correct? You were quite young then. It must have been a scarring experience for you.”

“I know it was our fault for draining the Light in M’uru but… What if that happens to the Sunwell too? How can I follow the Light when its purest expressions are so flawed? My trust has been broken by default.”

We sat together in a bench by the back wall, speaking in hushed murmurs not to disturb others who were praying. He took a moment to ponder on my questions before answering.

“It seems to me that what you’re really afraid of is not Light, but Shadow.” He paused, shifting in his seat to look at me. "Light and Shadow cannot exist without the other. The Light and its morality depends on the wielder—it can be used to heal or to harm.”

Silence stretched between us when I did not reply immediately. He did not press me for an answer either, allowing me time to process what he told me. 

“Is that why the Light in Anduin tried to heal me? Was he doing it subconsciously?”

“That is likely the answer. I have known Anduin since he was just a boy. He has always been eager to help everyone. I have seen him do amazing things.” He watched me for a moment, bushy brows slightly furrowed. “He must care deeply for you, to encourage the Light to go to such lengths.”

"I care for him as well. More than I ever thought I could…"

Velen leaned back with a smile. "Ah, young love. The beginning of a relationship is always a magical time."

I did not wish to entertain that conversation, and I had a feeling I'd gotten out of him all the responses I could get, so I prepared to leave. 

“Thank you for your help, Prophet. I have been trying to find answers in books without much success. Our conversation was very enlightening."

"If it's literature you seek, I may know something that might be of interest to you."

I followed him into a side room with a few bookshelves, where he picked up a notebook with the title "Word of the Conclave" scribbled on the cover. 

"This is a collection of stories about a set of weapons of the Light and their origins,” he explained, handing it over to me. “You might find it's worth reading."

*

A smile coloured my lips as soon as I walked back into my room, spotting the long box resting on my bed. I ran to open it, Velen's book thrown to the desk, forgotten. Taking special care not to ruin the pretty red bow on top, I lifted the lid to find a beautiful plum dress just waiting for me to pick it up and put it on.

I picked it up and held it in front of me, observing my reflection in the mirror. It was the most beautiful piece of clothing I had ever owned. It fit me perfectly, reaching my ankles, with sleeves long and wide, and a discreet opening at the front—my soldier brain immediately noticed how easy it would be to fight in it without having my movements restrained. It briefly made me wonder if I was wrong by having sworn out all clothing that did not have two separate leg holes. The low neckline left part of the scar on my chest uncovered and it framed nicely the Horde necklace Sylvanas had given me.

The small bead of Azerite gave off a constant warmth. The thin piece of metal holding it in place prevented it from being in contact with my skin, but I could still feel it, a weak buzzing like static.

I arranged half of my hair in a high ponytail, leaving the rest to hang loose down my back, like a waterfall made of fire.

As the colours coming in from the window turned to shades of red, there was a knock on the door. Just like he promised, Anduin greeted me as I opened it. He glanced up and down, taking in my entire figure with wide eyes.

“How can you be so breathtaking?” He murmured, hand upon his heart.

My cheeks burned, and I hope the blush wasn’t too noticeable. I grabbed his blue dinner suit jacket by the lapels, embroidered with the golden Alliance lion, and pulled him in, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

His eyes wandered to my necklace, and then to the scar. “I’m sorry,” he sighed, hand sliding down from my neck to trace the jagged contours of the mark. “When I picked this dress, I didn’t know this would show.”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind. I think it makes me look badass.”

He smiled, cupping my face with both of his hands and kissing me deeply. “You are so strong and tough,” he replied. “I lo-”

He cut himself off and cleared his throat, but not before my curiosity was piqued.

“You what?”

“Nothing. Let’s go, we’re going to be late.”

He took my hand as we walked through the corridors, chatting about something I couldn’t focus on. The reds and oranges of the sunset reflected in his hair and skin with such beauty it was almost ethereal, worthy of becoming a royal painting that could be hanging somewhere in that castle. We stopped in front of two large oak doors that opened as if on cue to reveal a great hall.

“Remember when we talked about the parties in Silvermoon?” He placed his hand on my back, gently leading me in. “I’m not sure if I got it right but I tried to recreate one for you. Alleria helped a little.”

Colourful banners were hanging across the ceiling, fairie lights and ivy cascading down the walls. Tall vases had been spread through the room, filled with water to the brim, where dozens of floating candles flickered happily among rose petals. A half-moon table was arranged by the back wall, where his advisors waited for us, and several other small, round tables were scattered through the room, sitting other nobles that resided in the Keep.

I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, wishing to stay in that moment forever, that borrowed happiness where we could play pretend. “It’s perfect,” I whispered, comforted by the way his hand was stroking my hair.

To my right, a guard banged the bottom of his staff on the floor once to announce our arrival. “His Majesty, King Anduin Wrynn, and Lady Omellas Bloodforged.”

The nobles stood up to bow as we passed, headed towards the main table, where he pulled up a chair for me, at his right side.

“Anduin, are you sure?”

“Of course! You are my…” For the second time that night, he hesitated, changing his mind halfway through the sentence. “My guest of honour.”

*

“I asked Alleria about the mock fights you told me about,” Anduin said, as the servants cleared the last of the dessert dishes. “Would you give me the honour of having the opening fight of the evening with me?”

“There’s a lot of important people here, Anduin. Are you sure you want to fight me?”

He chuckled. “I am certain I can take you on, my dear lady.”

His words hit all the marks to awaken my competitive side. “I accept your challenge, my king.”

The hubris in his tone needed to be culled, and there was no better way to do that than to humiliate him in combat in front of his people.

After a short speech, Anduin led me to a table where different training weapons glinted in the candlelight.

"I haven't used unsharpened blades since I was 10," I commented casually, eyeing the two long daggers sitting near the top corner.

"I wouldn’t want to hurt you accidentally."

I caressed his cheek with the back of my fingers. "It's so cute that you think you can hurt me!" 

He picked up a longsword, raising a questioning eyebrow at me. I reached for the double blades instead, remembering the first time I'd shown my skills publicly in Silvermoon, in a situation very much like this one.

“Sylvanas made it clear that these were little more than toys for children,” I explained, testing the weight and balance of the daggers. “A real soldier can't be afraid of a few cuts and bruises." 

"Sounds like she was a harsh teacher."

"Her methods can be considered… brutal. But in a minute you'll see exactly how effective they are." 

"I won't go easy on you!"

"Oh, I am begging you, make this challenging for me!"

The space in the middle of the room had been left purposefully empty to serve as a makeshift arena and, later, a dancefloor. He assumed his fighting stance and waited for me to do the same.

“Come on, do your best,” I taunted, both hands behind my back and holding my chin high with audacity.

Allowing him to strike first, I side-stepped to the right to dodge with a flourish. Then he cut upwards, trying to get me off-guard, but I cartwheeled backwards out of the way purely for show. Anduin chuckled as I avoided his attacks, letting him tire himself out. He swung his sword left and right, only to meet the empty space where my torso had been a moment ago or to have his blow misdirected by my blades. 

His form was good and I could tell he was not holding back. Yet, it was clear he expected me to fight fair.

I rarely fight fair.

After defending an overhead attack with both daggers, I was done showing off. I moved in, slashing at his chest and abdomen in a quick succession of strikes, forcing him to step away to properly parry. Then, as he took a single moment to catch his breath, I swirled around him, grabbing his hairband and kicking him in the back. Anduin stumbled forward and I used his momentum to jump onto his back, making him fall on his knees, pinning his sword arm against the torso with one arm and pushing a dagger to his neck with the other. 

In front of us, Greymane got up so fast his chair flew to the ground.

"This is how I like my men," I whispered in his ear, in the most sultry way I could, "on their knees and begging for their lives." 

Anduin did not attempt to break free. "You fight dirty, my darling.”

"Well, aren't you lucky these blades are so dull?" I giggled, pushing the blade further into his skin. "Yield. Now."

With everyone staring, sitting on the edge of their chairs, he dropped his sword. "I yield, you mean, devious elf…"


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: nudity, light sexual content

# Chapter Eighteen

In Silvermoon, it would have been customary for everyone to clap at the end of a fight despite the outcome. Yet, that hall was so silent you could have listened to the buzz of a fly’s wings on the other side of the room. Everyone was staring, fists gripping napkins or instinctively reaching for absent weapons.

I couldn’t blame them. Their king was on his knees with a blade to the neck. Granted, the blade was so dull it could barely cut through warm butter, but it must’ve been a shocking sight for everyone in the audience. 

“I’m sorry I pushed you,” I said, offering him my hand to help him up. “Are you hurt?”

He brought me in for a hug and kissed my hair. Such intimate gestures in public surprised me, as did the realization that I did not care we were being watched. “I’m okay. You were brilliant.”

Just then, something unexpected happened. Spymaster Shaw, getting up from his seat next to my empty chair, started clapping, slowly and alone. Captain Rogers followed, also on her feet. Then Velen, Turalyon, and all the nobles in the other tables. Even Alleria brought her hands together a few times, despite the abject contempt flashing in her eyes.

I took a bow, trying to keep my smile friendly instead of smug.

When the clapping died down, Alleria stood up to address the room. “That was a great demonstration of agility and skill. You clearly _are_ my sister’s student. I can see her figure seared into every one of your movements." She paused when I acknowledged her words with a nod. "Considering this lovely evening has been inspired by the parties in our old kingdom, should we also have a demonstration of the Rilah’Dorene?”

The narrowing of her eyes when her lips drew into a smile sent chills down my spine.

“What is that?” Anduin’s eyes darted between me and Alleria. I could sense the concern radiating off of him, certainly noticing the rising tension between us.

“It’s the Trial of Faith,” I explained. “She will shoot some arrows at me and I have to dodge them blindfolded. It’s an ancient Farstrider ritual to prove that we have full faith in our senses and ourselves and to show that we are capable of overcoming any incoming threat.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Not for me. I completed it on my 15th name day to show everyone that I really did belong in their little elite group.” 

I had practised day and night under Sylvanas’ watchful eye, fueled by a desire for power and a bottomless well of spite.

Alleria was not present at the time. I was only a toddler when she disappeared beyond the Dark Portal. She did not watch me grow into one of the best fighters Silvermoon had ever seen, nor had she witnessed my prowess in battle until a few months prior during our shared time in Argus. I did not understand what she was trying to accomplish with a demonstration of the Trial. Did she expect me to fail, to make a fool of myself in front of all the Alliance leaders? Did she think she could hurt me and call it an accident? 

“If you’ve completed it before," she insisted, "I am certain that you won’t mind doing it a second time then."

The Rilah’Dorene had not been a worthy challenge for me in over a decade. Yet, I realized she might not have been aware of it. Alleria challenged me openly, knowing I would not be able to refuse despite my growing concern for her veiled intentions.

“It would be my pleasure,” I replied, bowing my head.

As Anduin returned to his seat, I accepted a black blindfold from one of the servants, not missing the fact that they had it ready and prepared even before she made the suggestion. I placed the silk cloth over my eyes and allowed for someone else to tie it tightly behind my head.

The rules of the challenge dictated that it could only be considered a success if I managed to get through it without a scratch. Yet, that felt too easy. If she wanted a show, I would give her a proper show.

More than confident in my abilities and skills, I stood in the middle of the room, with my back turned and closer to her than necessary. The rush of that extra level of difficulty washed over me, fingers curling and extending by my side.

Light footsteps approached, stopping at a distance that would give me only a couple of seconds to react and move accordingly.

The sharp metal tips of two- No, three arrows scrapped over the shafts of the ones left behind.

One arrow was nocked on a wooden bow with the softest thud, followed by the sweet cracking of the string being stretched all the way.

A snap and then a projectile cutting the air behind me. But something else too. Something dark and ominous. A shadow. 

Whispers.

I could feel the void energy circling the metal head, restless and anxious to pierce my skin. I could hear the whispers, faint and unintelligible, getting closer and closer. 

The smell of anise enveloped me, a clever ruse from the void to attract its victims with the rich and sweet scent. But with it also came the distinctive smell of that special kind of darkness that haunts your thoughts when you can’t sleep at night. 

I spun in place just in time to catch the arrow with my right hand, only a couple of inches away from my heart. As soon as my skin touched the void-infused missile, the voices invaded my head like the roar of the wind, making it hard to focus on anything else.  
  


_THE DARK ONE IS LYING TO YOU, SHE IS AN ABOMINATION.  
IT’S ALL LIES. LIES. MURDERER, LIAR, MURDERER LIAR LIAR  
  
_

_No!_ I yelled in my mind, releasing the arrow as if it seared my hand. _I will not allow you to vilify my Queen!_

The voices faded away and I searched frantically for the position of the next arrows. Two of them approached at high speed, already too close for comfort. I leaned to my right, catching the first one as it flew next to my face, and then leaned the other way to catch the second one before it skewered my shoulder.  
  


_SHE IS DANGEROUS. MURDERER, ABOMINATION. SHE NEEDS TO BE PUT DOWN,  
SHE WILL LEAD YOU TO RUIN. YOU SHOULD KILL HER, SHE SEEKS THE DEATH OF ALL THINGS-  
  
_

_So do I, if that is her path! I will follow her until my dying breath and beyond!_

Alleria fired faster each time. The muscles on my arms burned with the effort to keep up with the pace. An unfamiliar panic took over, making my legs tremble uncomfortably. The infamous whispers of the void were no longer whispers at all, but multiple voices screaming inside my head, taking up all the space and making it almost impossible to pick up the faint hissing of the arrows to predict their path.

Clever, clever plan. Getting me killed and blaming it on my incompetence, or letting the void torture me for everyone's amusement. She was using my overconfidence against me in the most effective way possible.  
  


_FOLLOW US, YOU CAN BE GREAT BY OUR SIDE. INVINCIBLE, JUST FOLLOW OUR PATH.  
FOLLOW US FOLLOW US, WE WILL GIVE YOU THE POWER YOU CRAVE _

  
Judging by the speed with which they were coming, I knew Alleria was firing multiple arrows at once. Catching them was no longer an option. I did not have time to focus on their sound with the deafening chorus of voices constantly yelling inside my brain, even if I released the arrows as soon as I grabbed them.

But it was too late. As I ducked to avoid getting hit in the face, the voices still reached me despite my careful movements not to touch any of her void magic.  
  


_FOLLOW OUR PATH. FOLLOW US FOLLOW US, YOU WILL BE UNSTOPPABLE, INVINCIBLE._  
_YOU CAN BE GREAT BY OUR SIDE. YOU WILL BE INVINCIBLE._

_  
Leave me alone!_ I fought to push them away or drown them with my own voice, trying to shrink the space the void could occupy. _Get out of my head!_

Relying only on my ability to detect the air displacement caused by the speeding projectiles, I moved out of their way as fast as I could. Tears stung my eyes, pleading to be set free, but I refused. I would not give her the satisfaction. I would not show weakness even if it was the last thing I did.

I wanted to yell, to beg Alleria to stop, wanted to murder her for putting me through this torture. But she just kept shooting and my entire body ached, moving faster than I'd ever had to move before.

Fear took over, heartbeat thrumming in my throat as my confidence faltered. The sweet smell was sickening, poison turning the contents of my stomach into an acid mush. 

The pull of the void was too intense. The sudden desire to give in nearly consumed me. It was tempting, so tempting to accept such an offer. They were right. They were so right. I wanted to be greater than life, invincible. I had worked so hard all my life for that, all on my own. But perhaps I didn't have to do it on my own anymore...

_  
YOU WILL BE UNSTOPPABLE, WE WILL GIVE YOU THE POWER YOU CRAVE. INVINCIBLE.  
YOU WILL BE INVINCIBLE. YOU WILL CONQUER ALL, YOU WILL RULE OVER THEM ALL _

_  
No! You will never break me!_ I pushed the voices out of the core of my brain, forcing them to recoil against the boundaries of my headspace. _My Dark Lady will give me that power, not you. I don't need you!_

A scream ripped through me, body surrendering to my most primal instincts. My skin tingled when I spun across the floor, sensing the movement of the tiniest particles as the arrows flew towards me. I wasn't in control anymore, my limbs moved out of their own accord just like Sylvanas had taught me all those years ago.

I had to trust myself. I had to trust her. Everything would be okay if I trusted her.

And then, without warning, silence again.

No voices. No sickening scent. No twinging bowstring. No arrows whooshing through the air. 

Whether because my legs were numb or because relief weighed on me like a boulder, I crumbled and fell to my knees when the clapping started.

It was over.

And, suddenly, Anduin’s arms were on me, lavishing praise and admiration as he helped me get back on my feet. Yet his words, the crowd, the heartbeat in my ears, all the sounds were jumbled together, no more than a loud hum in the background.

When he removed the blindfold, I squinted at the sudden light. “Omellas…” His voice was only a murmur, as he squeezed the piece of fabric in his hand. “You’re shaking. Are you alright?”

I glanced around me, at the people, at Alleria and her self-satisfied smile. “I’m fine.”

“Okay. Come sit with me. You deserve to rest.”

With gritted teeth and Anduin by the hand, I forced my body to move again, placing one foot in front of the other, pretending everything was okay. 

“That was very impressive,” the spymaster commented, after the beginning of another sword fight between two nobles whose names I had already forgotten.

“Thank you.”

“But it was not what you expected, was it?” His focus remained on the centre of the room when I glanced at him, but his expression betrayed the real focal point of his attention. He lowered his voice so that only Anduin and I would be able to hear it. “She was not supposed to use void magic, was she?”

I mimicked him, focusing on the duel. “I handled it.”

To my left, Anduin silently deposited the blindfold between us so he'd be free to seek my hand beneath the table. His warmth was soothing, like holding out your hands to a bonfire on a frosty night. It washed over me, wiping out the remnants of fear and doubt. 

Scared to look down to check if Anduin was using the Light to comfort me, I let my eyes wander to the crumpled blindfold instead. The candlelight danced on the fabric, light and shadows playing in all the right places to reveal the wet patches my tears had imprinted on it.

“You did a good job,” Shaw remarked, after a long pause.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him glance at me, and I met his gaze with a slight nod.

"How did you become so good at everything you do?" Anduin asked over the clashing of swords. 

I sighed, feeling a need to open up and be honest, to share the weight of my memories as if I stood among friends. "The first time I killed someone, I was ten years old,” I told him, with a small shrug. “After that, everything seemed really easy, to be honest."

"Ten? Is that a normal thing among your people?"

To my right, Shaw interrupted. "Isn't that when high elf children usually started their military training?"

"That's right," I agreed, surprised by his knowledge of my culture. "My family is- was one of the few that started early, like the Windrunners. On my fourth name day my grandmother gave me my first bow and a quiver with real arrows—not the toy kind, the actual sharp, piercing kind."

Growing up, I kept that bow on display in my room, my very first treasure. I used to dream about passing it on to my children, like a family heirloom, but it was destroyed along with most of my house and all I had during the Fall. 

"I started sneaking out at night to practice on my own when I was seven,” I continued. They both listened to me intently, which was unusual—I was not used to opening up about my past or any of my personal experiences. "I didn't know it back then but Sylvanas would sometimes watch me practice. She took me on my first hunting mission with her outside the city when I was nine. I killed a lynx on my own that day."

"She taught you how to hunt, then?"

I nodded at Shaw. “She taught me most of what I know today.”

"What happened when you were ten?" Anduin squeezed my hand lightly, fingers intertwined with mine, bracing for a loaded answer to his question.

"Sylvanas and I were on a trip to Lordaeron to visit Nathanos on his old farm when we were attacked by a small group of Amani trolls.” Anduin’s attention was only on me and my story, the mock fights in front of us completely forgotten. “I took on one of them, Sylvanas dispatched the other three."

"Why were you two visiting him?" 

"He wrote to Sylvanas about a wolf pup he had rescued, shortly before my tenth name day. Sylvanas thought it would be a perfect companion for me and she was right," I shrugged again, unable to hide a smile. "We grew up together and we're still together to this day. Hati and I have been inseparable since."

“Hati?” Shaw scratched his beard with a pensive look. “Like Thorim’s worg companion?”

“Yes! He told me he read a story about the Keepers in a book while he was training in Silvermoon and the name just popped into his head when he saw the little baby.”

"Blightcaller has a reputation for being… Difficult." Anduin's pause to find an appropriate adjective for Nathanos was almost hilarious. "Was he always like that?" 

"You'd think his crankiness would be a side effect of undeath, but-"

"He has always been a foul-mouthed louse," Shaw interrupted, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed.

My head snapped to look at him, while he pretended to focus on the fights once more. "Did you know him before?"

"Briefly," he replied, clenching his jaw very subtly.

“I’ll never forget the first time we talked,” I said, noticing for the first time that I missed his grumpy face.

“Why? What did he tell you?”

"Is this the one you’re priming to be your second in command?" I quoted, in my best impression of Nathanos' rough tone. "This scrawny, half-pint of an elf with flimsy limbs and not enough meat in her bones to withstand a proper fight?"

"Sounds about right." Shaw chuckled, yet his knuckles whitened around the half-full glass he was holding.

The last fight ended, and the servants started to clear out the weapons as we applauded while a group of musicians entered the chamber, carrying their lyres and lutes. Excitement grew in my chest with the perspective of some fun times that did not involve me being shot at.

"So how did you react to that?" Anduin asked, somehow still interested in my story.

"Well, I… I stole his belt dagger and challenged him to a duel."

Both of them laughed, wrapping me in an odd sensation of acceptance. 

"What? I was still pumped from the fight with the trolls. I could not let him disrespect me like that. I'm still waiting for that duel to this day."

"I admire you,” Anduin admitted. “My father expected me to be this great warrior… He was so mad when he realised that's just not me. We had a massive fight when I told him I wanted to study with Velen and become a priest.” He shook his head, burdened by the sorrowful recollections. “I… I hate killing. Hate hurting other creatures, I can't see other people in pain and stand idly by."

"Swinging a sword around and chopping some limbs off creatures is easy. Killing is easy. Having the power to heal what others destroy is so much harder! I was born to be a simple murderer," I told him, squeezing his hand so he would look me in the eyes. "Yet you were born to be a saviour. I'm sure your father would be very proud of the man you've become."

His features softened, awash with serenity. “Well, you were great today. It was an honour to have my behind kicked by you.”

“Quite literally,” Shaw added.

“Hey, don’t disrespect your king,” I scolded, both of us smirking at each other.

Anduin laughed at us, pleased that we were getting along.

As the music started, he pushed his chair back to get up. “Would you like to dance with me?”

He led me as we moved across the dancefloor and I just stopped caring. I forgot about Alleria’s voices from the void, about the murderous stare from Greymane, forgot about everything. I focused only on him, the way his hair shimmered in the candlelight, and his impossibly blue eyes that remained stubbornly and deliciously on me at all times.

*

I hummed a song as we walked back to his room, spinning around occasionally, still in love with the way my new dress flowed so beautifully. And then our eyes met, and he had the most adoring grin on his lips.

"What?"

"Nothing, I just… I love to see you this happy."

One of the guards outside his private chambers opened the doors for us as we approached, bowing his head to both of us.

"I can't remember the last time I've been this happy for so long," I confessed. 

"I think I’m about to make you even happier,” he replied, closing his bedroom door behind us. “I have a gift for you. Close your eyes.”

I did as I was told and felt his body get closer to mine, sparks jumping between us like a lightning storm. When he placed both arms around my neck, something small and cold touched my chest. I didn't have time to wonder what it could be because all of a sudden his lips were on mine and nothing else really mattered.

When he pulled away, I looked down to find a new pendant next to the Horde crest, dangling from a thin silver chain—a lion head with small, glittering sapphires for eyes.

I checked myself in the mirror hanging above his dresser, teary-eyed at the amazing gifts he kept giving me. It felt odd being spoiled like this. No one had ever made me feel so cared for, so appreciated. “Anduin, this is stunning!”

“I thought it would be fair to have me represented there as well,” he shrugged, hugging me from behind. His eyes widened slightly at our reflection. "We look great together. We should commission a painting!"

"That's going a bit too far," I giggled, amused by his excitement.

Then my eyes fell on a small box on his dresser, hand-carved with a detailed flower pattern. "What's in this box?"

He exhaled loudly, kissing my cheek and resting his chin on my shoulder. “My mother’s engagement and wedding rings,” he replied. “I’m saving them so I can offer them to the woman I choose to be my… Queen.”

His blue gaze sought mine in the mirror, but I was afraid to see an unspoken question staring back at me.

“Your queen will be a very lucky lady," I said, turning around to face him, focusing on kissing his cheek instead of the pangs of envy in my heart. “But in the meantime, I am your lucky lady.” Arms around his neck I swayed from side to side, revelling in the shivers his grip on my waist was producing. “You know, you’re a very good dancer…”

“And you’re a very good fighter," he countered, a mischievous smile slowly appearing on his lips. "A dancer, not so much.”

The way he scrunched up his button nose made me laugh out loud. "That's true. But you know what else I'm good at?"

Sliding my hands beneath his jacket, I coaxed it off of his shoulders and down his arms. He swallowed visibly when I started unbuttoning his vest, breath catching in his throat. "I am excellent at…"

"Omellas…"

"... Shoulder rubs." I placed his jacket and vest on the back of a nearby chair and frowned at him. "What did you think I was going to say?"

He bit his lip with a smile that made my heart skip a beat. "I hate you…"

"No, you don't." I kissed the tip of his nose and gave him a gentle push towards the bed. "Sit. I need to make up for the absolute humiliation I put you through tonight."

He complied with a mellifluous laugh and remained mostly silent, apart from the occasional sigh of appreciation. I had never given anyone a massage before—not in such an intimate setting at least. My fingers moved to unload the weight of the world from his shoulders and to disentangle the stress knots down his back. Watching the way his body relaxed with my touch, made me feel like, for once, I made a difference in someone else's life. That I was doing something good by being with him. 

"I think I'm over the humiliation now," he said after a while, pulling me to his lap. "Come here, I miss your lips."

I cupped his face with my hands and kissed him gently. He squeezed my waist with his strong hands and slid them up the sides of my torso, sending goosebumps all over my skin. When he deepened the kiss I tasted his tongue, feeling his fingers playing absent-mindedly with the string of my dress.

“Pull it.”

“What?”

“You’ve been fidgeting with that string for a while. Pull it, see what happens.”

“Are you sure?”

Standing up in front of him, I nodded, running my fingers through his hair as I confirmed with a kiss.

As the dress slid down my skin and pooled at my feet, I bit my lip to keep the anxiety at bay. But Anduin made everything easy. His warm hands on my hips pulled me towards him as he kissed my belly, coaxing me into his lap once again. He captured my lips as I straddled him, my hands burying themselves in his golden locks.

“I thought I was the only one who was nervous about this,” he said, breaking the kiss to look me in the eyes. 

“I’m not nervous,” I murmured with a head shake, unsure if I’d be able to keep my voice steady if I raised the voice any louder.

“Then why does it feel like your heart is about to run away from your chest?”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I watched in silence as his eyes wandered all over my body for the first time.

“All these scars… You must've suffered a lot..” he mumbled, fingertips tracing faded marks on my waist. 

"Back when we first met, I told you I'd had worse than that beating. It was not an exaggeration."

“I wish I could take away the pain that caused all of these.”

“Pain makes us stronger.” I ran the tip of my finger through the collar of his shirt. “I’m sure you must have some scars of your own. Can I see them?”

He nodded in silence as I unbuttoned it to reveal a series of vast scars all over the pale skin of his chest.

"How did you get these?"

"The Divine Bell did some extensive damage when it fell on me." Then he smiled sheepishly. "That's actually why I can tell when you lie to me."

I gasped. "And the truth shall set you free!"

His lips drew into a smile that did not reach his eyes. "They're hideous…" he mumbled.

"Hey, look at me,” I commanded, raising his head with a finger on his chin. “I'm covered in scars. There are scourge bites all over my arms, multiple stab wounds on my torso, worgen claws on my face, burn marks on my hands and even one on my thigh. Do you think I'm hideous?" 

"I swear by the Light, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." 

"Scars are just another part of you like your kind heart and your pretty eyes. Don't hold yourself to different arbitrary aesthetical standards. Your scars tell the story of who you are."

He kissed my neck, resting his forehead on my shoulder. "I'm so thankful that you're here with me."

I helped him shed the rest of his clothes, letting them fall haphazardly on the floor. He parted my thighs and kissed his way up to my neck, making sure every scar he found along the way received a gentle touch of his lips.

When I wrapped my legs around him, his skin was fire I wanted to bathe in. The passion I felt was so intense, it spilled out of me in each brush of my lips over his skin, in the waves of my hips bringing him closer to me, in the tear that I could not contain and rolled with a whimper down my cheek.

*

Laying awake well into the night, I focused on his breathing and the way his chest rose and fell beneath me. The way we fit together like we belonged in each other's arms. And just when the ropes of sleep coiled around me to pull me under, he whispered my name.

It is often when we believe we can't be heard, that we are willing to reveal our deepest secrets. So I did not reply, pretending to be asleep, curious to know which kind of secrets would escape him.

And then...

"I love you."


End file.
